Triple Measure
by Lady Akemi
Summary: Set in AC 201. My continuation of the GW series. I'd strongly recommend visiting my web site, which contains a ton of information that would be helpful in understanding the background for this story. Please RR--this fic takes a lot of work.
1. In the Year AC 201...

April 15 AC 201  
  
"...and over here are a number of works from the pre-colony era. The creators of these particular sculptures were, I believe, originally from the Mediterranean. Vice-foreign Minister Darlian, would you perhaps prefer to stand over here? Oh yes, that's much better-your stature, or if you will permit me, your lack thereof, may inhibit your view slightly less if you stand in front."  
  
"You know, I think I'm sorry I dragged you along, Ms. Darlian." Parker's voice in her ear was the only thing that saved Relena from politely informing the director of the Earth Sphere's most prestigious museum that he was a consummate idiot. She waited until the squat, gray-haired old man had turned away and was eagerly indicating a set of extremely ugly American paintings to the five obviously wealthy elderly men and women in their tour group, before she looked up at her companion. His gray eyes were twinkling merrily, and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders disappear in response to his sympathetic smile.   
  
"I know you shouldn't have, Parker," she said, but smiled to take the sting out of her words. "I've never been much of an artist. I guess that's why I don't understand all his complex references."  
  
Vice Foreign Minister Brian Parker's eyebrow's rose, and she wondered if he'd missed the joke. Suddenly his hand flew up to cover his mouth, and she knew he hadn't failed to catch her meaning.   
  
"Sure. A museum director who doesn't know where his art came from, let alone who painted it. I hope the sale is more entertaining."   
  
As if on cue, their small party stopped outside a door marked, "admission by appointment only." The museum director, smiling obsequiously, keyed in a short code sequence and swung open the panel with a flourish. The gesture was made almost grotesque by his ponderous girth, and Relena tried not to look disgusted as she, Parker and the other prospective buyers were ushered into a long, brightly-lit room. At first she thought that there had been some mistake-a forest of boxes, crates, esils and stacks of paintings stretched from one end of the room to the other. However, the irritating little man was motioning eagerly to the disorderly collection, so she supposed this must be the right place. You owe me big time, Parker, she thought, and resolutely stepped over the threshold, following his tall figure around a mass of jumbled items.   
  
"Remind me to give you the most odiously tedious paperwork for the next month," she murmured with a smile, as soon as the two were safely out of range of the others. "Not only was the tour exceedingly boring, but the dust in this room is going to render this suit unfit to be seen for some time."   
  
He grimaced. "I don't know how this place got such a great reputation. But you never know, perhaps we'll find something interesting." Turning slightly aside, he began to rummage through a stack of what looked to Relena like very old watercolor drawings.   
"Perhaps," she echoed, still unconvinced. However, for lack of anything else to do she began to look around. The most visible items in her vicinity weren't particularly appealing, and more often than not she found her gaze traveling back to Parker. He was keenly examining a number of small framed pictures of something she couldn't quite make out. Relena sighed slightly, and began to toy absently with a lock of long honey-colored hair that had fallen over her left shoulder. She liked Parker's intense nature, his optimism and his seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy. He was young, about her own age, and a refreshing change from the stayed, placid older men and women she'd been dealing with for the past five and a half years.   
  
Five and a half years. It's been that long since the war? I suppose time must move more slowly for me, she thought. I spend most of my life working. People say it's a pity-I guess to them it must seem like I'm wasting my youth. But preserving this peace is my dream, just as well, just as some people dream of creating timeless works of art.  
  
People say. She shook her head, causing her tiny, gold star-shaped earrings to dance merrily. People also said that she had chosen Parker as her deputy because he was young, handsome and single.   
  
Don't kid yourself, Relena. That's exactly why you chose him-at least in part. But not for the reasons they suspect.   
  
She had merely come to the conclusion that it was simply easier to converse with him, to be on friendlier terms, without feeling obligated to keep a certain distance. There was of course the possibility that he felt differently... She dismissed the notion almost as soon as it entered her mind. I think he and Debbie have something going on. Either way, I'm not interested.   
  
As the next, inevitable, thought entered her mind Relena couldn't help grimacing. She   
always thought of him when she thought about romantic relationships, even after all this time.   
  
She had long since terminated her search for Heero Yuy. It had become evident within six months of his disappearance in May of 197 that the elusive pilot of Wing Zero had either changed his name-which Relena privately thought was very likely-or had simply immersed himself so deeply in the population of the Earth Sphere that no amount of hunting would unearth him. Even as Vice-Foreign Minister, she did not have the resources available to do a thorough search, and after much thought Relena had decided that even if she could, it would be unwise.   
  
He's a loner. He and I shared the bond of a mutually traumatic experience-and I think, a slight teenage attraction. But I refuse to spend my time chasing after a childhood fancy. He was the support I needed to cling to after father died. He was a symbol of hope and strength for me, just as all the Gundam Pilots eventually became to the people of both the Earth and the colonies. I owe it to him to give him his share of the peace.   
  
"How about this one, Ms. Darlian?" Parker's query snapped Relena out of her reverie.   
  
"Let me see...oh, well...it's, um...ok, I give up. What is it?" The drawing looked to Relena like a myriad of brightly colored blobs, aimlessly applied to the canvas by some deranged kindergartner.   
  
"You really don't know much about art, do you?" Parker inquired in mild disappointment.  
  
"No, Parker, I don't. I wasn't kidding," she replied, feeling slightly abashed. "I took art in school, especially at St. Gabriel's, but I never really grasped it. My lowest marks were almost invariably in those courses."  
  
"Don't worry Ms. Darlian. You learned all you needed to know to keep the Earth and Colonies from one another's throats. That compensates for any artistic deficiencies." He tugged affectionately at a strand of her hair. It had been like that between them for some time. Good friends, but neither one ever addressed the other by their given name.   
  
I suppose it's his way of preserving our working relationship so that when times get tough we can work together despite any differences of opinion. At least he calls me Ms., rather than Foreign Minister.  
  
"Are you going to buy that?" she asked.  
  
"Hmmm. I think I'll hold onto it and see what else I can find. At least make an attempt to look interested, huh boss? Roly-Poly over there is beginning to look very distressed at your seeming lack of enthusiasm." His off-handed quip prompted Relena to swivel around slightly, and sure enough, the museum director immediately substituted a broad smile for the perturbed frown she had just enough time to glimpse. He bowed low and made as if to advance in her direction. Gesturing dismissivly, she began hastily to inspect some line drawings piled on a table to her left.   
  
"Seeming lack of enthusiasm? You should really have brought Debbie."  
  
"I asked her," he admitted. "But she's back at the office making arrangements for your L1 tour. Besides, there are a few issues concerning Tuesday's meeting of the Federal Department heads that I wanted to discuss with you over lunch. What about this one?" He held out a rather charming painting of what looked like a tropical coastline.   
  
"Actually, that one's rather nice," she said. "I think I'll go inspect that back corner. Let me know when you're through." Relena turned away before he could reply. She didn't want him to see the irritation she knew was plainly evident on her face. Just for once, she thought, I'd like to spend Saturday doing something with my friends besides work. Perhaps we're not really friends at all-perhaps I'm just so desperate for company I'm overestimating the merits of our relationship. Relax, another part of her admonished. He's a good employee. You work well together and he has never once made a pass at you. Leave it at that and be grateful. Besides. He is your friend. You know that. Stop being so paranoid. Poor Debbie. She's working today too. Odd that we've been on a first name basis for years, while he and I keep just that much more distance. It must be a female thing.  
  
Goodness these are ugly!   
  
She had begun to rifle aimlessly through another pile of line drawings. Trees, animals-there was one sketch of a cat that she decided was rather cute, and she slid it under her arm. In the process her elbow collided with a small cardboard box full of what looked like tiny gargoyles, which teetered dangerously. Relena's reflexes had never been particularly good, but somehow she managed to catch the container before it's fragile contents could meet a spectacular end on the dusty stone floor.  
  
Lucky Catch, she thought, and was just about to return the box to it's former position atop a stack of slightly battered-looking red crates when something inside it caught her attention. Wedged carelessly between two very toothy statues was a roll of long, white papers. Hmmm, I wonder what this is? She glanced over at Parker, who was deep in conversation with a gray-haired older woman carrying a box full of random statuettes and small drawings. Guessing that he would be thus occupied for quite some time, Relena gently drew the bundle of papers out of the box and began to undo the faded ribbon that held them together.  
  
Whoever packed these drawings must have been in a big hurry. Not only are they in the wrong box, but this knot looks like something I would have tied as a seven-year-old. A little more...there!   
  
"Oh my..." the exclamation burst forth before she had time to completely assess what exactly it was that she had discovered. these aren't ordinary line drawings, they're... 


	2. Past and Present

April 18 AC 201  
  
"What's on the agenda for today, Tom?" inquired Quatre Raberba Winner from somewhere deep inside his closet.   
  
"The usual, sir," came the somewhat muffled response of his chief assistant. "You've got a conference call with Arthur Simmons from S.J. and T. at ten, and after that there's that luncheon at the governor's mansion. At two you've got..."  
  
"Wait a minute," Quatre interrupted, emerging from his wardrobe. "What about before ten? It's only six thirty now." Ugh. Six thirty! Carelessly He dropped the white shirt, beige pants and blue jacket he was holding onto the bed, earning himself a frown from the man who, during his childhood, had been like a second father.   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I reminded you yesterday," apologized the older man. "You know," he said as a somewhat sheepish expression crossed his features, "I don't even remember. Let me see..." Bending his grizzled head, Tom consulted an electronic appointment chart.   
  
"If you mentioned it I'm sorry," replied Quatre, picking up the shirt again and shrugging it on. "I was so tired after that interminable meeting that I probably wasn't paying attention."   
  
I'm going to need some new clothes soon. I hope I've finally stopped growing.  
  
"Actually," Tom began. His voice contained a note of surprise. "According to this you're free this morning. That would explain why neither of us could remember."  
  
"Great," responded the head of the astronomically successful Winner corporation. "I could have stayed in bed."   
  
"On a Thursday, sir?"   
  
Tom's incredulous tone only served to broaden Quatre's gentle smile. "You know I'm only joking, Tom," he said reassuringly. The other man had been his father's assistant. He was intimately trusted by the entire family, and was the only one besides Quatre's favorite sister, Atia, who knew of his role in the war.   
  
Thankfully, that select group is small. It's a lot to answer for.  
  
"Does this look all right?" he asked, slightly embarrassed. "I never quite mastered the art of knotting a tie, and whenever I have to interact with that old grouch Simmons I feel like a child."  
  
Tom cast a critical eye over the boy-no, man, he corrected himself--whom he viewed nearly as a son. "it's fine. You know blue suits you. You've filled out a great deal-grown at least eight inches --since you came home from...since you came home. But anyway," he added gruffly, "what am I, a fashion consultant? Ask Atia.."  
  
"Only five ten," responded Quatre amiably. He was both saddened and amused by Tom''s discomfiture. Quatre knew how much his own departure from his family's pacifist ideals had upset the other man. "You sound like you need coffee, Tom," he added with a laugh. The comment was only in part an attempt to divert the conversation. "Go ahead and send up for some if you like Hey! For once we might even be able to eat a substantial breakfast."  
  
"As you will," Tom acknowledged brusquely as he turned and made his way into the comfortable, simply furnished sitting room that adjoined Quatre's sleeping chamber. "I'll be in here when you've finished performing your ablutions."   
  
"Old grouch," Quatre murmured, but he was smiling. Grabbing his razor and a half-empty container of shaving cream he made his way into the bathroom. Laying both items down on the edge of the sink, he reached out and drew aside the white curtains that veiled the room's one tall window.   
  
At this time of year on L4 day always broke early, and as the watery rays of the spring sun streamed in through the glass, illuminating both Quatre's golden hair and the deep blue tiles on the floor, he thought how peaceful and beautiful life could be. It's not as though this job is easy, he mused. I guess it's just that making business and financial decisions all day is a whole lot easier than making decisions that will determine whether hundreds of thousands of people will live or die.   
  
He hadn't been able to forget. He doubted he ever would. But more often than not he could bury the memories. There were times when they even seemed to belong to another person-as though Sandrock, the Zero System, and Gundam Pilot 04 were elements of a story that had been told him by a stranger. Then the nightmares would come, causing him to wake up sweating and crying for the lives that had been destroyed. That he had destroyed.  
  
"It's a lot to be responsible for."  
  
During the past few years he had devoted an extremely large part of the Corporation's annual revenue to the reconstruction effort. It was something, but it would never be enough. He knew that.  
  
"Breakfast!" Tom's voice brought Quatre back down to earth with a jolt. He gazed out the window for another moment, taking in the lush green gardens and the seemingly endless blue sky. I hope it always stays like this. It's all controlled, of course, and nothing like the beauty of the Earth...but still.   
  
"Mr. Winner?"   
  
"one minute," Quatre replied, hastily splashing water on his face. As he opened the shaving cream he wondered for the thousandth time at Tom's habitually formal method of addressing him. When Tom had been his father's assistant he had called his employers only son "Q." Somehow, Mr. Winner just didn't seem right. Quatre had tried to broach the subject with the older man once, shortly after his return in early 196.  
  
"It's not that I don't appreciate the respect you show me, Tom," he had explained. "It's just that, well, Mr. Winner was my father. I'm just not accustomed to hearing people I've known my entire life call me by that name."  
  
Tom had merely looked at him and shaken his head. "You're head of the family now, Mr. Winner. Head of the Corporation. It wouldn't be suitable if I didn't address you as I do." There was no arguing with Tom when he used that particular tone, and Quatre had let the matter drop. Still, it didn't feel right.  
  
Breakfast was hard-boiled eggs, thinly buttered toast and fresh orange juice. The two men ate in relative silence, only occasionally exchanging idle conversation. When he had finished his repast, Tom rose and deliberately pushed in his chair.  
  
"You're so neat, Tom," Quatre couldn't help commenting. "It's only my quarters, not a banquet hall."  
  
His companion merely gave a short grunt. "By the way, sir," he said after a moment, "while you were in the bathroom I took the liberty of examining that list of newly promoted staff." He indicated a neatly typed document that was uppermost in a large pile on Quatre's less than organized desk.   
  
"You know," the younger man responded with a slightly embarrassed laugh, "Personnel sent that up last week and I haven't even looked at it. What did your perusal reveal? I know, I know,' he said, holding up his hands in mock defense. "I should be more organized and professional. But at least I haven't forgotten any important meetings yet this year. May is a record, so give me credit for trying."   
  
Tom scowled, but Quatre was fairly certain he did so only to prevent himself from smiling. "It appears that you have spoken to each of the higher-level appointees at least once," he said sternly, "with the exception of the new Advertising Director."  
  
Quatre sighed at the mention of that department. "You know, it was a pity we had to let Pavlov go," he said. "But I just couldn't have a man on staff who continually stepped outside the bounds of his position. It's not that I don't appreciate his enthusiasm, but it was causing some serious morale problems."  
  
"Yes sir," agreed Tom, rather too flatly for Quatre's liking. The two had discussed the situation for hours, but despite Quatre's lengthy reasoning Tom had not fully approved of his young employer's final decision.  
  
Eager to change the subject he asked, "So then, I can do that this morning. Go look in on...her? See if things are going well. To be perfectly honest, I don't even know her name. I trust you to fill those positions. Tom, but it puts me in a rather awkward situation when I can't call to mind the name of one of my department heads. We promoted someone from within the company, didn't we?"  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Tom. "She's a fairly young woman-around your own age, I suspect-but her record is excellent and she's well-liked by the majority of her staff. Even Wen-you know, that incorrigible artist--likes her, and that's got to be some kind of miracle. I've heard from some of them that she's tough, but fair. An excellent choice, if I do say so myself."  
  
"Doubtless," agreed Quatre, rising from the table. He allowed himself a luxurious stretch, ignoring Tom's disapproving look. "What's her name?"  
  
To Quatre's intense surprise, Tom took a long time to reply. "You know," he said finally, looking more than a little abashed, "I've completely forgotten!" The two shared a brief but warm smile as Tom drew out his ubiquitous electronic notepad. "I want to say Kitty...but that's not right. Let's see. Oh, I suppose it's not completely wrong, either. Her last name begins with Cat. Here we are...Catalonia. Dorothy Catalonia. I'm certain you'll b quite impressed with her--Mr. Winner? Are you all right?" 


	3. Life and Shadows

April 18 AC 201  
  
"Wen, I need ideas from you and Nicole for an add campaign for those new light-weight space suits-by noon, if at all possible. If not, no later than two."  
  
Perceiving the irritated look cast in her direction by the young Chinese graphic artist, Dorothy placed one elegantly manicured hand on her hip and held the other out in a slightly defensive gesture that was both peremptory and apologetic. "Look," she said, meeting the man's gaze directly. "I got the word that they were moving up the release date about two minutes ago. I didn't do this to inconvenience you, and I'm sure the people in production didn't either. So I'm sorry, but we'll just have to make the best of it."  
  
"I have three such tasks at the moment," Wen replied in a characteristically haughty tone. "I'm certain the people in production"-he half spat the word with a contempt that Dorothy shared, although she would not allow herself to express it-"can hold off for another day or so."   
  
"Look, Wen--"  
  
"These are prior assignments, Ms. Catalonia. I will not divert them simply because Jim Thompson feels the need to demonstrate his power and prestige as a designer by rushing the production of a suit model that you and I both know has not been thoroughly tested."  
  
She allowed herself a slight smile of agreement, but almost instantly replaced it with a grimly determined expression. "Leave that up to production, Wen. You're a graphic artist, and the boss said "design a tentative add by the meeting this afternoon." I agree that Jim's not easy to deal with, but he's both of our superior and we don't have much of a choice in the matter."  
  
Wen's scowl eased somewhat, but he continued to look sullen as he nodded silently, pivoted on his heel and strode purposefully toward his office. Dorothy sighed, and recommenced her customary morning rounds. She had only been head of this department for a month, but she had already established several precedents, one of which was her rounds. She'd been working in advertising for slightly over three years, and she didn't want her staff to become resentful of the fact that she had been promoted so quickly. Ordinarily her objective was merely to greet some of the artists, secretaries and designers as they arrived, without deliberately seeking out anyone in particular. However, the unexpected message waiting on her machine that morning had prompted Dorothy to modify her usual procedure.  
  
That man is impossible, She thought. Sometimes I wonder why Pavlov promoted him to assistant director. Nicole would have been a better choice. She's just as competent, and far less obnoxious. "Good morning, Afza."  
  
"Morning, Dorothy," replied the young Arab woman with a cheerful smile. "You look like you need some coffee. There's some in the pot if you want it."  
  
Dorothy grimaced. "No, I don't need coffee. I need patience."  
  
The other woman's smile grew even wider-a circumstance which never failed to surprise Dorothy. She could never figure out how someone with such a perpetually cheerful expression could possibly smile more..   
  
"Had another run-in with Wen?" Afza inquired sympathetically.   
  
"How'd you guess?" Leaning back against the wall, Dorothy began to swipe irritably at several errant strands of her platinum blond hair. "That man is unbelievable. It's not what he says. It's what he doesn't say." She shrugged, and straightened. "Sorry to disappear so fast, Afza, but I'm already running behind."  
  
"I still think you should have some coffee," replied Afza. "And for future reference, he doesn't dislike you as much as you think. Believe me-you got chosen to fill Pavlov's position even though he had seniority. If he didn't like you at least a little, he'd be making your life miserable on a daily basis." She chuckled. "Well, more miserable, that is."  
  
"Thanks,' replied Dorothy with a wry smile. "As for the coffee, it'll just make me more hyper. Hello, Connie. How was L2?"  
  
And so it went, until finally she was able to return to her own office. Shutting the door firmly, she leaned back against it and exhaled. What am I doing here,, she asked herself for the millionth time.   
  
I'm not a bureaucrat. Come on, Dorothy. It's a job. Remember that. There's not much else the daughter of a dead aristocrat from a by-gone era can do for a living.. Think about the trouble you went through learning to keep yourself alive.   
  
She snorted, remembering those first few months of trying to cook for herself.  
  
Dorothy crossed the office to it's one rectangular window, carefully avoiding piles of sketches, story boards and old memos. She pushed open the sliding panel and took several long breaths of the colony's cool, only somewhat bland air. There were mornings when she wondered why she had bothered to find that escape pod, others when she berated herself for not ending her life during those long months of recuperation in a Moscow hospital.   
  
What's it all for, Dorothy? Why do you bother? What did being a rebel-a warrior-what did it get you?  
  
"Stop it," she commanded herself aloud. "You're alive. Make the best of a well-paid position and a comfortable apartment in the most elegant district of New Cairo." Her grandfather's assets had been seized by the new government. She had still been in a coma at that point, and by the time she had recovered enough to consider reclaiming them all the property had been sold and the money used to aid in the reconstruction effort. She had let the situation stand-"Be honest with yourself, Dorothy. You were happy to be rid of all that."   
  
It all belonged to some strange world called her past.   
  
I don't understand any of this. I was a political figure from the time I was thirteen.. I knew the most important players on the diplomatic scene-and then it all disintegrated. Was Milliard Peacecraft crazy? Was he right? Is the Earth truly the cause of mankind's wartorn history-no. That was the Zero System talking.   
  
"no." He hadn't been right. But then, neither had Treize. Relena-looking back, Dorothy supposed that Relena had been the closest to the truth, from an idealogical standpoint. I couldn't except it then...and even now, it's foolish to presume that throwing aside weapons could possibly end humanity's predilection for bloodshed. That's why I sided with Milliard. His crazy scheme to teach the earth sphere a lesson was effective, if nothing else.   
  
On a more selfish level, with all that fighting came political intrigue-it was all I knew. I was powerful. Or at least, I thought I was. Power and victory were everything...and justifying what happened to Papa.  
  
She sighed. This was getting her nowhere, and she still had an unbelievable amount of work to do. Letting fall the curtain, Dorothy strode purposefully back to her cluttered desk and began to hunt around for a sharpened, reasonably substantial pencil stub. "Note to self", she said, flicking a rocker switch on the machine that doubled as both phone and personal organizer. "Go ask Anna for a new set of writing utensils."   
  
I'm almost out of pens and a hundred other things. Might as well take matters into my own hands-sending a memo will be less than useless.  
  
Impatiently jerking open the lap drawer, Dorothy began to rifle through it's contents. Suddenly, her hand came in contact with the cool rounded surface of a data cylinder. Dorothy's lips twitched.   
  
This is what it's all for, she reminded herself, fingering the small object. You're not out of the arena. Just taking a respite.  
  
A loud knock on the door made her jump. Hastily sliding the drawer shut she checked her appearance in the tiny mirror hanging above her desk. "Come," she called, making no effort to conceal her irritation. She reached for the now cold cup of coffee that had been waiting conspicuously on her desk.  
  
Afza slipped into the room and gently closed the door. "I see you found the coffee. I'm sort of acting as secretary," she said with a mischievous grin. "Mr. Winner's here to see you." 


	4. A Warning in the Darkness

April 22 AC 201  
  
Sally Po crouched behind a pile of large concrete slabs, her laser pistol held at the ready in one hand. With the other she motioned to her partner, Chang Wufei, who was similarly obscured about fifty yards away behind a mound of scrap metal.  
  
At her signal, he sprinted across the intervening distance, pistol raised and darting furtive glances around the refuse-covered courtyard. Sally held her breath, silently praying that his stealthy movements would not be detected by some here-to-fore unnoticed sensor.   
  
The night air was heavy and still. Sally could hear nothing save her own breathing, for Wufei was silent as a shadow. She saw him duck behind another pile of rubble, and held her breath, straining to hear whatever it was that had caused him to take cover. Suddenly she became aware of a low whirring noise. The sound seemed to vibrate through her body.   
  
It must be coming from underground-but where?   
  
She placed the palm of her free hand on the pavement, searching for some indication of the source of the steady rumbling. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wufei leave his hiding place.   
  
What could they be doing? I thought the Calisto moon colony was only a supply base for the outer settlements. Mining? No, from what we've seen they don't have that kind of equipment. That noise definitely sounds like machinery, though.   
  
Suddenly, two figures appeared from around the corner of the immense building. Sally tensed, silently cursing the source of the low rumbling for having masked the sound of their approach. The two men-she guessed they must be guards, judging by the gray uniforms they wore, paused for a moment about ten feet along the wall. Raising her pistol, Sally hastily leveled it at the foremost of the two, but before she could fire Wufei's dark form had disappeared into the shadows. She didn't lower her pistol, but the tension in her neck and shoulders eased somewhat.   
  
However, when he had not reemerged into her line of vision within three minutes, Sally began to be afraid. She hadn't heard any shots, nor had either of the two centries made any sudden movements, but with the new technology these people seemed to be pioneering that didn't necessarily mean that Wufei was safe.   
  
I thought the Preventers' new lasers were top secret technology. The President knows-I think Une got his permission before she commissioned them-but I doubt many people beyond the organization know-or would approve of the fact that we're experimenting with such technology. Still, if we can develop these things, so can they presumably. .   
  
She didn't like the idea that dissident groups could develop the same technology as ESUN's government. Une had fought for the right to do more defense weapons research, and to nearly everyone's surprise Minister Darlian had agreed. But the Preventers still had far too little leeway.   
  
A sudden warmth at her side caused Sally to swivel just enough to plant a heavy punch in what she hoped was the face of her unseen adversary. Rather than the cry of rage and pain she'd been expecting, however, there came a low, gutteral curse in a language she knew well.   
  
"Hey, fight your enemies, not your allies!" Wufei snarled in Chinese.  
  
At his words, the taller of the two guards began to advance in their direction.   
  
"What's up, Jim?" inquired his companion, drawing what looked like a slightly more compact version of Sally's laser.   
  
"Thought I heard something," replied the other man, looking intently toward the shadowed corner behind Sally's barrier of concrete slabs. The fact that this colony was actually on one of the moons of Jupiter had made their mission extremely difficult from the outset. Surveillance runs that might otherwise have been conducted on moonless nights had all been performed in the light of the Giant planet's eerie low. Sally knew that, despite the double domed, tinted barrier that separated the colony from the vacuum of space the aid of the planet's reflected glow would allow the guard to rapidly divine their position.   
  
"Now look what you did," she mouthed, realigning her own weapon with the approaching man. I'll have to remember that these guys have lasers too. Beside her, she could feel Wufei taking aim as well. Although the two had been in similar situations before, Sally still had a tight feeling in the pit of her stomach.  
  
"Show yourselves!" commanded the guard, suddenly sprinting toward their hiding place. Neither he nor his luckless companion ever knew what hit them. Two thin red bolts of laser fire dispatched them quickly and silently.   
  
"there'll be more coming soon, I saw at least eight during the half hour you were scouting." Sally rose from the fighting stance she had assumed upon first sighting the two guards, but did not holster her weapon. "I suggest we hurry."  
  
"Next time watch what you're doing," ordered Wufei, rising. "Your impulsive action just made things a lot more difficult."  
  
Sally refrained from arguing, partly because quarreling with Wufei just at that moment would have been counterproductive and partly because she knew he was right.   
  
"I think the shortest way is actually the way we came in," she advised, and began to run in that direction. He followed without a word.   
  
They were out of the courtyard and had covered a good third of the distance to the boundary of the compound when shouts began to ring out in the darkness.   
  
"They've found the guards," she said, although she knew she was merely stating the obvious.  
  
"Run faster," was Wufei's only response. Suiting his actions to his words, the young Chinese man redoubled his pace. Sally followed suit, wondering for what seemed to her the millionth time how the five scientists who had created the Gundams could have trained their pilots to be so thoroughly calm. And athletic, she thought grimly, clenching her teeth and concentrating on matching Wufei's deer-like stride.  
  
Without warning, several brilliant spotlights flickered to life. The florescent glow they produced colored the well-trodden grass underfoot a ghostly silver-green. Two bolts of dangerously bright laser fire whizzed past her head and collided, crackling ominously, with a large oak tree that was only about three feet to her left.  
  
"Stop there!" came a woman's disembodied voice from somewhere behind them.   
  
"The shuttle's about a mile into these woods," Wufei informed her, abruptly halting and pivoting on his heel. "Go key in the ignition sequence. I'll hold these-" and he gestured scornfully with his laser pistol.   
  
Sally obeyed, simultaneously impressed by his courage and annoyed by his peremptory manner. Diving into the line of trees and brush that marked the edge of the compound, she fought her way through the clinging undergrowth. The light of the planet aided her somewhat, although the trees grew thickly in places. Once her foot became tangled in some sort of coarse weed and she fell, but Sally wasn't about to let herself be defeated by vegetation. As she hit the ground, the sound of the thud she made caused her to realize something which seemed extremely irrelevant.   
  
There are no insects. In fact, I haven't heard or seen any wildlife on this colony during the three days we've been here.  
  
Jerking her boot free she continued to run, not stopping until she reached the small transport Wufei had hidden amidst a clump of short, scraggly trees. Her lungs were on fire and her breath was coming in short gasps, but Sally hadn't been a major in the Federation Army for nothing. The door slid open as soon as she punched in the code, and she scrambled inside. Half flinging herself into the pilot seat, Sally tapped in several quick commands and the engines roared to life. Carefully avoiding the treetops, Sally guided the shuttle to a position just above them.   
  
"You'd better be alright, Chang Wufei!"  
  
It took the tiny craft only seconds to return to the spot where Sally had left him. As she had expected, nearly a dozen guards had pursued them. Two were dead-Sally could tell, even from this altitude-and several others were lying on the ground in various states of consciousness.   
  
We're really going to have to explain this one. I wish he'd be more careful-the Preventers have to maintain an image consistent with the peaceful intentions of the government-especially where the colonies are concerned.   
  
As she watched, Wufei burnt a smoldering gash in yet another man-fortunately in a nonfatal spot-which sent him toppling to the ground. Now there were only four left in Wufei's vicinity, but Sally spotted several dozen more uniformed figures exiting the courtyard.   
  
"Time to leave this little party," she said to no one in particular, Banking the transport around in a half-circle in order to bring it closer to the ground. Wufei broke off his laser battle with yet another guard as Sally punched the button that would open the hatch. In less than five seconds he was inside, the hatch was closed and they were accelerating away toward Calisto's space port.  
  
*****  
  
"You think they'll follow us?" Sally asked over her shoulder. There retreat from the moon base had been uneventful, if somewhat hurried.   
  
"No," he replied, then, seeing her impatient expression he added "I didn't see any space-worthy equipment-or anything that looked like it'd be much good for rapid movement within the colony, for that matter. They're obviously not expecting to have to move in any sort of a hurry. I think it's just a production facility." There was mud on his usually spotless Preventer uniform, and he brushed at it irritably.   
  
"Production? That would explain the mechanical noise, but what kind of production would warrant them shooting at us with lasers-come to that, why would they have that kind of sophisticated weaponry in the first place?"  
  
"I found about half a ton of gundamium alloy," he said. There was no doubting the worry in his tone.   
  
"What else," she asked, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  
  
"I couldn't get inside, but-you know those high pollutant readings we got upon landing?"  
  
"Yes, what about them?"  
  
"I think what our sensors detected was the atmospheric by-product of mass mobile suit production." He flopped down in the seat beside her, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want to get to the Mars colony as soon as possible. I think Une's going to want to hear about this.'  
  
"I don't doubt it," replied Sally absently. "That would explain the fact that there didn't seem to be much wildlife on the colony-animals in space need more highly controlled environments than their relatives on Earth." She had put their craft on auto-pilot, and was busily scrolling through some electronic files. "I don't see any listings for mines that would contain the necessary metals to create Gundanium. Not on Calisto, that is. There are a few on Colony L4D577, but that's controlled mainly by the Winner corporation, and I doubt Quatre'd sanction the creation of more Gundanium-and certainly not mobile suits. You know," she added, giving him a mild glare, "Une's not gonna be happy about those casualties. You should've been more careful."  
  
Wufei offered no reply. He was gazing out the window at Jupiter.   
  
"It's huge, isn't it?"  
  
"You need not state the obvious, Sally," he said, but there was no real annoyance in his tone.  
  
"I'll say what I like, and you know that," she retorted amiably, yawning. We should reach the Mars colony in about two days. I don't think whoever those people are working for is going to start causing trouble in that short an amount of time, and I don't really feel safe transmitting this far out. Une can wait until we're closer to Earth."  
  
Wufei rose. "I'm going to bed."   
  
It was only then that she noticed the slight swelling around his left eye. She must hve hit him pretty hard.   
  
The doctor in Sally made her make one last comment before he left the tight confines of the cockpit. "You really ought to put some ice on that, er, bruise," she said, inwardly wincing.  
  
He half turned in the doorway. After regarding her steadily for a moment, Wufei just shook his head and disappeared into the rear of the shuttle. However, Sally was almost certain she had seen him smile. 


	5. Contentment

April 30 AC 201  
  
He knew she was home when the front door slammed shut with an earsplitting crash that rattled the dishes on the kitchen table.  
  
"That inconsiderate, self-centered son of a...Gods Duo, I could strangle him with my bare hands!"  
  
Laying aside the manual he'd been perusing for nearly an hour, Duo Maxwell greeted is irate wife with an understanding smile.   
  
"I dunno about that, Hilde. After all, he's so fat you might not be able to get a good grip on his throat."  
  
Fairly throwing her knapsack and several bags of groceries down in one corner of the living room, Hilde snatched a pillow from a nearby sofa and hurled it forcefully in his direction.  
  
He caught it and threw it back, smirking as it hit her square in the chest.   
  
"Jerk."  
  
"Hey, it's not my fault you insist on continuing to take his course."  
  
"I have to take his course. In case you don't remember the other ten thousand times I've told you this, it's required!" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, her cheeks flushed.   
  
He always thought she was beautiful when she was mad. And it was fun to spar with her.  
  
"Well, you could wait and see if he maybe gets killed off in some sort of freak accident, and then the course would be taught by someone else," he suggested.   
  
She threw another cushion.  
  
He caught it. Then, feeling a little remorseful, he rose and advanced toward her. Wrapping an arm about her waist, Duo could feel the tautness in her muscles.   
  
"Don't worry babe," he said, squeezing her lightly. "It's only a few more weeks. What'd he do this time?"  
  
She leaned into him, her ire abating somewhat. "He just told me that my work--my proposal for the final project was too ambitious. What an idiot."  
  
"Well, he doesn't know you've got a mechanics expert here to help you. Engineering's not that easy for most people, you know."  
  
"I know," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. But I learn more from working with you on things than I do from six weeks of sitting in his stupid lectures."   
  
"So he told you you'd have to come up with another idea?"  
  
"pretty much, yeah."  
  
"That sucks."  
  
"I know."  
  
Suddenly her expression brightened. "Hey! I was in such a bad mood on the way home that I sort of blew my grocery budget."  
  
Amused, Duo grinned down at her. "And why, my dear, is this a reason for excitement?"  
  
"'Cuz, I bought the stuff for strawberry shortcake. I needed a sugar fix to improve my mood."  
  
Duo laughed, in spite of himself. It was hard to believe but he was actually the more financially conscious of the two of them. With Hilde in school and his business still in it's early years, they were often more than a little strapped for cash. On many occasions Duo had dutifully restrained himself from buying some new tool or gadget, only to discover upon coming home that she'd exceeded at least one, often more, of the budget limits they'd painstakingly worked out at the beginning of the month.   
  
But it was all right.   
  
He helped her prepare dinner, and as they ate the young couple chatted aimlessly about the events of the day. As dusk approached they stacked the dishes in the sink, laughed at themselves for procrastinating and not washing them immediately, then migrated into the living room. Hilde had an exam the following Tuesday, so she was soon sprawled out on the beige carpet pouring over several large textbooks. Duo flipped on the TV, since they both preferred background noise while they worked, and recommenced the perusal of his manual.   
  
That evening, for whatever reason, he couldn't concentrate. His eyes kept focusing on Hilde, busily studying, and on the melodramatic plights of the television characters. And on the stars, visible through the open curtains of the front window.   
  
He got restless sometimes. It wasn't that he particularly loved space, or the Earth, the way some of the others had. He just wasn't accustomed to living in one place for such a long time.   
  
Duo suspected that he would have liked to be one of the pioneers that had settled the western half of North America. They had always been moving, always striving.   
  
"I think I'm gonna go for a walk."  
  
Hilde looked up, the end of her pencil pressed against her cheek. "You ok?"  
  
She always seemed concerned when he went out for walks after dark. He knew she knew.   
  
"Yeah."  
  
The sky was clear, almost believably earthlike through the colony's protective dome. He passed any number of people, mostly older men and women, as he strode rapidly along the winding sidewalks in there neighborhood of L2D37's central commercial district. Most of the younger ones, the men and women of his own age, were either dead or had gone off to school on Earth.   
  
The apartment he shared with Hilde was little more than a loft on the floor above his shop. The sturdy, mostly concrete building had been erected some half a century before, when L2D37 had finally been completed. It was wedged between two taller buildings, one an apartment complex, the other containing several stories of office space.  
  
The colonies were thriving again. And they had helped to make that possible. Hilde still bore multiple scars from her bold attempt to infiltrate Libra. Sometimes, late at night, he wished he could have gotten there faster-that he could have spared her that pain. When he mentioned it, she laughed at him.  
  
She often thought he was overprotective. But so was she, in her own way. They were both looking forward to the day when they could trade their cramped loft for a proper house. Not a big one. Just one that was comfortable. That was what she wanted.   
  
It was what he'd dreamed of, but had never really imagined would ever be within his grasp.   
  
She wanted kids one day. She'd never said as much, but he knew Not now, of course-there was no room in either their apartment or their budget--but one day. He saw the wistful way she looked at kids and families as they passed in the street.   
  
He didn't. Children were a nuisance. A person couldn't be free with kids to look after. But he'd wait until the time came to tell Hilde.   
  
She was happy.  
  
And so was he.   
  
Mostly.  
  
He loved Hilde. There was no question in either of their minds that he would go to hell and back for her if the need arose. In a sense it already had, during the war.   
  
He'd given the people back there smiles. There was an old man with a little girl clinging to his hand. They were walking along the other side of the street, and the man was pointing at some brightly colored flowers in a windowbox jutting out from one of the low brick buildings that lined the sidewalk.   
  
Five years earlier they would have been glancing furtively about, looking for possible dangers lurking in the shadows.  
  
He turned around, drawing in a deep breath of the purified air that circulated ad nausium through the colony's ventilation system. He didn't know how much time had passed. Judging from the stars, maybe an hour.   
  
He still kept in touch with Quatre. The Arabian was personable yet unassuming. Duo liked him.   
  
Heero had disappeared-no big surprise there. The others had slowly drifted into the mists of the past. Wu Fei was working for the Preventers. Trowa was probably back at the circus.   
  
And he was married.  
  
It was so strange.   
  
When he entered the apartment, Hilde once again looked up from her books.   
  
"You were gone a long time."  
  
"I know. Sorry." He lay down beside her on the floor, draping an arm across her midsection.   
  
"I'm not gonna be able to study if you do that," she protested, but she shoved the book aside and drew closer to him.  
  
"Take a break. It's nearly ten. I wanna catch the news-see which paper pusher's gonna get his two bits in tonight."  
  
"Duo!" She poked him with her elbow. "You think even Foreign Minister Darlian is a paper pusher."  
  
"She is. I don't like her."  
  
"But she's..." Hilde sighed. They'd had this discussion before.  
  
"I don't trust her. One minute she's all for total pacifism, the next minute she's applauding us for defeating Dekim Barton. I'd rather she stuck to one set of ideals."  
  
Hilde was silent.   
  
As it turned out, that night there were no governmental bigwigs on the news. Instead, the lead story was about a large protest that had been staged in the ESUN capital, Brussels.  
  
"Some eight thousand members of the former Romafeller foundation and several hundred colony citizens joined forces today in expressing their growing resentment against the Earth Sphere Unified Nation."  
  
"You've gotta be kidding me," Duo groaned. "Don't they realize..."  
  
"Shhhh!"  
  
"...one spokesman for the group proclaimed that the heavy-handedness of the new unified government is robbing him and his family of their rightful property and political influence."  
  
Duo gritted his teeth. What did they expect. It was there petty squabbling and power plays that had started the wars in the first place. The old ones had been made honorary members of the Earth Sphere's congressional body, and their offspring would inherit any family property. Only those lands which had been obtained by conquest during the past ten years had been handed back to their previous owners.   
  
"...when one of the colony residents taking part in the protest was asked his views, the man replied only that he'd been told that ESUN would give him and his family a better life, and that thus far the new government has not lived up to it's promises."  
  
Hilde switched the TV off, making a disgusted sound in the back of her throat as she did so.   
  
"What are they talking about? Isn't being able to live and work and well...go wherever you please an improvement over the fear and oppression we were subjected to during the war?"  
  
"You gotta remember, a lot of colony citizens benefited monetarily under Romafeller. They didn't have second thoughts about selling the rest of us out. White Fang only represented the views of a portion of the colonists. Some people will never be satisfied." He rose, stretching his arms above his head until his spine cracked.   
  
"Ugh! Don't do that. It sounds so gross!"  
  
"I'm off to bed. How long you gonna be up?"  
  
"Probably only another hour. Don't hog all the blankets or I'll have to wake you up to get my share."  
  
A smile touched the corners of Duo's mouth, but it was only for her. He didn't feel like smiling.  
  
He'd lived for the colony citizens. He'd been prepared to die to keep them free from the tyranny of OZ and Romafeller.   
  
One of the few Bible verses he still remembered out of the hundreds Sister Hellen had made him memorize floated briefly to the forefront of his mind.   
  
"As a dog returns to it's vomit, so a fool repeats his folly."  
  
He turned on the light in their bedroom, taking in the sight of the slightly worn bedspread and the piles of clean laundry strewn about as though in well-ordered disarray.   
`   
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he always had been.   
  
Maybe they didn't want their smiles back. 


	6. Honesty

April 22 AC 201  
  
Dorothy's hand froze with the mug lifted halfway to her lips. "What?"   
  
Afza looked both confused and worried. "Dorothy, are you all right?"  
  
Calm down. You knew this was bound to happen. You accepted this position knowing you'd run into him. It was easy to avoid his notice as just one of a dozen designers.   
  
"Yes, I'm fine. Did he say what brings him here?" Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.  
  
"Well, no, but it's standard. Sort of like you're morning rounds. He likes to meet all the top level people in each department. I forgot, you weren't here just after the war when Pavlov was hired." The dark woman turned back toward the door. "Should I let him in, or do you want a minute to get ready. I can tell him you're on the phone."  
  
In spite of herself, Dorothy laughed-or emitted a sort of grating sound that might, under other circumstances, have been mistaken for a laugh. "Somehow I don't think that would be wise. Show him in."  
  
Ok, calm down. You've always been the collected one. You didn't lose it, even when using the Zero system. It's just Quatre. He's week. You ran him through with afencing foil, remember? Yes, but he's my boss now. As much as this life is dull and uneventful, it's better than before. Better than...   
  
At the sound of the Door handle turning Dorothy took a firm grip on her coffee mug. Then she realized how foolish she must look and hastily slammed it down on her desk. Drops of lukewarm brown liquid spattered over the topmost sheets in an untidy stack of documents as Quatre Raberba Winner strode into the office.   
  
He's gotten taller. He must be six feet at least. And broader. He's what, twenty now. Stupid! Pull yourself together.   
  
"Good morning, Mr. Winner."  
  
Quatre paused in the doorway, one hand on the knob. His clear blue eyes met hers directly, and Dorothy felt herself blushing. She looked away quickly, her face reddening all the more for her embarrassment.   
  
What do you say to someone you would gladly have killed less than five years ago?  
  
Softly closing the door, Quatre advanced toward her, holding out his hand.   
  
"Ms. Dorothy."   
  
Numbly, she returned his handshake, and was slightly reassured by the discovery that his hand was as unsteady as hers.  
  
Drawing on the reserve of poise that had stood her in good stead during many awkward political encounters, Dorothy forced a welcoming smile and gestured expansively at the disorderly office.   
  
"Please excuse the mess," she said, moving quickly to remove a pile of papers from a chair in the corner by the window. "I wasn't expecting visitors."  
  
"Don't worry. I am notoriously disorganized myself," he responded, seeming to grow more confident. Then, giving a short laugh he said, "I don't suppose the usual generic greeting and questions will do in this case?" Taking the seat she offered, the young head of the Winner Corporation rested his hands on his knees and regarded her speculatively.   
  
What happened to the shy, unprepossessing pilot of Gundam 04?  
  
"No, I doubt they will," responded Dorothy, seating herself opposite him. On a sudden whim, she did something she seldom allowed herself to do, even among friends. But there was something about his frank, open gaze that made her drop her guard. "This is extremely awkward."  
  
"It certainly is," he agreed with a characteristically amiable smile.   
  
He's got a very charming countenance. It's a pity really...  
  
The two sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he inquired, "Just out of curiosity, what prompted you two, er, come to work here on L4?"  
  
"I needed a job. Earth was still virtually in ruins, so I thought I'd try my luck in the colonies."  
  
"I took the liberty of examining your records in A.C. 196, after I'd returned and started up operations here.. You were listed as MiA."  
  
"That's because I didn't want to be found."  
  
"Doubtless. I assume that since the amnesty you've felt safe using your own name?"  
  
"Come now, Quatre. You know I've got too much family pride to do anything else."  
  
He frowned, shifting his gaze from her face to a point somewhere over her left shoulder. Something about the tautness of his expression told Dorothy that her attempt at levity had not been well-received.   
  
If I antagonize him, there goes my job. I can't risk that yet.   
  
"So," she inquired, suddenly eager to change the subject. "Can you bring yourself to trust me in this position after my-shall we say, betrayal?" It wasn't exactly the best topic to have broached, she knew. But some part of her consciousness needed to know the answer to that question.  
  
Quatre took a moment to reply, and when he did his expression was sober. "I think," he said at last, "That because your interests are involved. You won't risk the welfare of the company. Your job depends on it."  
  
He knows me better than i supposed. Why does it bother me that he views me the same way he would a viper?  
  
The seconds ticked buy, neither one venturing to break the silence. Dorothy had to exercise a great deal of self-control in order to prevent herself from reaching up and twisting the thin gold chain that hung about her neck. The lavender silk of her blouse was beginning to feel oppressive. At last she said, "I suppose you're wondering why I chose to work here, of all places."  
  
"I was, actually," he acknowledged.  
  
His composure is unnerving. Those boys were always secretive, but I used to be able to read his eyes.   
  
"To be perfectly honest, I didn't have any choice. I had only a few credits left in my bank account, and with Grandfather's assets sold I didn't have much in the way of worldly possessions." She shrugged nonchalantly, then continued, "I couldn't bring myself to work permanently as a waitress or a clerk, and I didn't have the skills needed to qualify for a lot of the work available at that time. Not that there was much. In 197, as you know, the depression hit and work was nearly impossible to find. I only heard about a low level opening in this department by accident, from someone I chanced to meet on a bus. I applied, although I had no credentials. I was always good at art, and to be honest I did a little tampering with my records-" she smiled sweetly.   
  
"I see," he said. "I think a lot of people made some subtle record modifications after the war."  
  
"I assume that includes you," she remarked, carefully watching his expression. "I doubt the head of the historically pacifist Winner Conglomerate could afford to have it known that he had essentially been a terrorist?"  
  
"That's right," Quatre responded, but he offered no further explanation. Dorothy didn't press him-there was something new and different about his demeanor. The boy she had scoffed at had disappeared.   
  
I hope I never have to fight you again, Quatre Reberba Winner. You nearly beat me once. I don't know if I could win this time.  
  
"I suppose I'd better let you get back to work," said Quatre, rising. To her surprise, Dorothy felt a sudden pang of regret.   
  
Why on earth do I want him to stay? Perhaps, she thought, it was because, though they had been enemies, they had fought the same war. He was a link with the past-a past full of danger and challenges.  
  
She came to her feet as well, hand outstretched. "I'd like to say it was nice to see you again," she said. "But in all sincerity I believe I could have lived without the privilege." She could afford to be a little more blunt now, since her job was secure. Quatre wasn't spiteful.   
  
"On the contrary," he said, clasping her hand briefly in his, "Seeing you, although not altogether a pleasant experience, has reassured me on one point that has been bothering me for several years."  
  
"Which is?" she asked, moving to hold open the door.   
  
"You're alive."  
  
Suddenly his last words to her on Libra rang in Dorothy's ears. "Please don't die."   
  
She took an involuntary step away from him, nearly losing her grip on the doorknob. "Why should it matter. I was your adversary."  
  
"You'll never understand, will you," he sighed, shaking his head. His wayward golden bangs danced across his eyes in response to the rapid motion. "You're still human, Dorothy. You were wrong-but you believed in what you were fighting for."  
  
"What, in the glory and inevitability of war? In mankind's inability to overcome baser instincts unless the survival of the entire race was in question?" she snorted. "I thought you wanted peace?"  
  
He just shook his head again, and strode past her into the corridor. Perplexed, she watched his retreating back for several moments, then slowly closed the door.   
  
********  
  
Dorothy tossed aside her pencil, scowling. It was nearly half past one, and neither Wen nor Nicole had yet brought her any prospective adds.   
  
Between the time pressure and Quatre's surprise visit this morning, how am I supposed to concentrate on my own work?  
  
She admitted to herself-very quietly, of course--that she had been more than a little unsettled by Quatre's sudden appearance. She had been expecting the occurrence on one level, but somehow subconsciously denying the possibility.   
  
What irks you more, the fact that he came at all, the fact that he doesn't trust you, or the fact that you were so honest with him?   
  
Her mind kept asking the same question, and for once in her life Dorothy had no immediate answer with which to sooth her inward disquiet.   
  
But, be honest. He shouldn't trust you. You betrayed the cause of peace once.   
  
Unconsciously, she reached into her lap drawer and closed her fist about the small data cylinder. You're betraying it again, to all intents and purposes. Dorothy smiled, and upon glimpsing her face in the mirror she was almost surprised to see the combination of ferocity and cunning in her own eyes. 


	7. Reflections in the Rain

April 26 AC 201  
  
It had been raining all morning. His hair and clothing were soaked through, despite the umbrella that he'd purchased with almost the last of his ready cash. To make matters worse, the subway route he needed had been delayed for nearly half an hour. The announcement made just a little while ago over the station's obnoxiously buzzing loudspeaker had promised a renewal of service within forty-five minutes.   
  
So he sat there, dripping, staring aimlessly at the bustling passers by.   
  
Trowa was accustomed to traveling inconveniences. After the war his circus troop had encountered them everywhere they turned, since many roads, bridges and long expanses of train track had been destroyed during the fighting. They'd decided to return to Earth as a sort of good will gesture from the colonies. He would have been perfectly content to have remained in space, but Cathy and the other performers had thoroughly enjoyed themselves.   
  
Cathy. It was difficult for Trowa to admit it, but when his adopted older sister had gotten engaged at the end of AC 199, he had been stunned to find himself feeling abandoned--and somewhat lost. The idea was rather ludicrous, since he'd lived on his own for almost his entire life. But when her fiancé had decided the relationship wasn't working out, Trowa had been secretly glad.   
  
He liked having a family. He didn't want anything to intrude on that. Not just yet.  
  
It had taken a long time for him to come to grips with the idea that his fellow performers were bound and determined to provide him with the same love and protection that they offered one another. It had been such a foreign concept at first. Back then, the only one he had trusted was Cathy.  
  
And the ringmaster, to a certain extent. He was a good man.   
  
"May I have your attention please! Service on track 10 has been restored. The next train to..."  
  
The remainder of the announcement was drowned out by the whooshing sound of an incoming train.   
  
Trowa rose. This looked like it should be his. In less than half an hour he ought to be done with this task and on his way home.   
  
The message had come out of no where. He'd started up his laptop the previous morning with the sole intention of checking his mail, and by two O'clock that afternoon he'd been on a shuttle bound for Earth.   
  
Cathy hadn't liked it. but when he'd shown her the contents of the message she'd agreed that this journey was necessary.  
  
At least the Preventers could take care of such things nowadays. It wasn't his responsibility anymore.  
  
He didn't miss being a soldier. The course of his life had pretty much forced him into that line of work, for there had been little homeless, nameless children could do other than fight. Or be taken in by orphanages, raised to believe the world was a good place and then shipped off to low-paid labor camps when they reached their fourteenth birthdays.  
  
He stepped onto the train, discretely keeping one hand near the opening to his pocket. The one which contained the data cylinder.   
  
They'd know what to do with it. That was there job.  
  
Trowa was amused to intercept the stares of several girls, mostly around his own age. They were looking at his hair. He enjoyed making people guess how on earth he got his bangs to stay so pointy.   
  
He still kept in touch with Quatre, but the bond they had forged during the war was gradually beginning to fade. The Arabian was kind, but his life of meetings, deadlines and business suits was very far removed from the life Trowa led as an itinerant performer.   
  
When the train screeched to a halt at the third stop, he drew his jacket closer about his shoulders and pushed his way through the crowd of boarding and disembarking travelers until he reached the platform. Keeping his head lowered, Trowa followed the signs toward the street exit.   
  
This was Preventer territory. He had no doubt that his face, as well as those of the other Gundam pilots must be on file somewhere. Doubtless their images and profiles were top secret, but still, he had no wish to be identified.  
  
Not today.   
  
He wanted to get this mission out of the way and then go home.  
  
Taking out his umbrella once again, Trowa hurried through the unusually deserted streets until he reached the complex that housed Preventer headquarters. Now came the hard part.   
  
He approached the guard station at the entrance to the base, reaching into the pocket of his jacket for the identification he'd rapidly forged before his departure. He hoped they wouldn't run it through any extensive background checks, since the identification number and date of birth were both fake.  
  
"Hi, kid," said the guard at the window, peering at Trowa with no hint of suspicion from under his bushy eyebrows. "Whatcha doing here?"  
  
"I've come to inquire about joining the Preventers."  
  
The man took the papers he held out, keeping an eye on Trowa as he swiveled around in his chair. "Hey Paul! We got another kid says he wants to join up!"  
  
"Lemmie see his id." replied a rather bored-looking man at the back of the small office. After squinting for a moment at the signature, the picture, and then at Trowa, the man nodded. "It looks all right, but aren't you here a bit late. I doubt anybody'll be there to process your application this late on a Friday."  
  
"I actually just wanted to pick up the paperwork," Trowa responded. He'd been anticipating this.   
  
"It's a long way to come, just to pick up the papers. Says here you live on L3." The two men seemed to upraise him again.   
  
"Well, my sister and I are on Earth for a few weeks, so..."  
  
"Ah, I gotcha. Well, lemmie print you up a pass...it's good for an hour." As he spoke, the man at the back of the office began to type rapidly. After a moment a small printer on the floor by his feet began to whir softly, and within seconds it spit out a small white card.  
  
"Here. Follow this road down past the next three buildings, take a left, go over to the next street and it'll be there on the right."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He followed the mans instructions until he'd rounded the corner after the third building. Then, drawing on the mental map he'd been able to put together from accessing classified schematics of the base, Trowa ducked down a narrow alley that ran between two large brick edifices.   
  
Her office was on the third floor of a formidable looking white omplex. Trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Trowa flashed his pass to the guards at the door, then headed for the elevator.   
  
He couldn't help but think that the security at Preventer headquarters was unbelievably lax. It would be so easy for a terrorist to slip in unnoticed and wreak an incredible amount of havoc.   
  
They said the world was safe now. That war had been banished forever. But Trowa had a sinking feeling that they were wrong.   
  
That's why he was here. 


	8. Of Love and Sorrow

April 22, AC 2o1  
  
Sally muffled a yelp as her knee connected with the metal frame of the folding bed in her cabin. Wufei was a stickler for modesty, and had refused to even consider a ship that had joint quarters. She had suggested hanging up a sheet between their two halves, but he had been adamant. In the end she had given up, and they had taken this cruiser, although she secretly felt it was bigger than they really needed. Not that it's exactly large, Sally muttered, Rubbing her leg. Their was only room in each of the cabins for a narrow foldout bed, a sink, and two tiny wall-mounted cupboards. Tonight she had made the mistake of opening one of the cupboards while the bed was down, and had tripped as she tried to get out of the way of it's swinging door.   
  
Scowling, Sally hunted around in the pile of crazily folded clothes on the bottom shelf of the offending cabinet until she found her hairbrush. Military or no military, Sally was hopelessly messy. She drew the line at calling herself a slob because her belongings were always clean, but they were never organized.   
  
Noin's the organized one. I wonder why she never rose above a lieutenant. I probably will never know, either. She never talks about those days.   
  
Sally shook her head, allowing her hair to fall forward over her shoulders. She had unbound the severe twists she wore during the day to keep the golden mass somewhat under control, and it now flowed nearly halfway down her back. Humming softly, she began to comb out the tangled locks, periodically glancing out her one tiny window at the endless blackness of space.   
  
There was a third cabin on the shuttle. Sally had offered it to Noin after her return from Mars. But the other woman had declined, and had chosen instead to work with Cierra, an African pilot who had formerly been with OZ. Sally couldn't blame her.   
  
You say you understand what Wufei did, Noin. Maybe you do, but I don't blame you for not wanting to see him day in and day out.   
  
"We've all done some pretty terrible things," she said aloud, looking at her face in the mirror above her sink.   
  
I think I was lucky. Most of the men I killed or who died while under my command, left this world honorably. They went into battle with the expectation that their lives would be on the line. Those cadets at Lake Victoria-they were still only children. They never truly knew what it is to fight for a cause they believed in-they never knew what hit them.   
  
You're being morbid, Sal. Pull yourself together.   
  
She shrugged, placing her hairbrush back in the cupboard. Sliding under the ugly, green Preventer issue blanket, Sally thanked God for the millionth time that someone had thought up the idea of space traffic controllers. Only ships that had multi-day journeys ahead of them were eligible for the service, and it's use was also limited to those vehicles with fewer than three crew members. In days past, one person had always been required to guide a shuttle, and even when autopilot had been perfected there had still been the risk of a malfunction. That meant that on ships carrying only two people, they were each alone for long periods of time while the other slept. The Controller service had been instituted just after the war to facilitate more rapid movement of reconstruction crews and diplomatic representatives. The Preventers had their own branch, to ensure security, since the service ran with satellite data and a direct link to the autopilot of each ship.   
  
If Noin had been aboard Sally doubted they would have made use of it, because even counting sleep rotation no one person would have been alone for more than eight hours. But since it was only her and Wufei, they prefered to sleep at the same time.   
  
Not that he's always such great company, she thought ruefully. But it's better than nothing, and besides, he's a lot less difficult to deal with than he was after the war.   
  
She had taken him on as a partner only half out of kindness. Sally secretly admitted that she had always liked something about his proud, self-sufficient attitude. It had taken nearly two years, but Sally was almost certain that he respected her now-as much as he was capable of respecting anyone.  
  
She lay for a long time after turning out the light, mostly thinking about Noin. Something about the other woman's appearance the last time they had met, nearly six months earlier, had caused Sally to inquire seriously into the state of her friend's health.  
  
*****  
  
"I'm fine, really," Noin laughed. The two had gone out for Chinese-the greasy, fake American stuff that Sally loved, although she would never admit it to Wufei.  
"I've just been working really hard lately."  
  
Sally thought a moment before she posed her next question. "Have you heard from..."  
  
"No," said the other woman with a finality that warned Sally not to inquire further into that subject.   
  
Putting down her chopsticks, Sally regarded Noin sternly. "You can't just work to forget about it, you know."  
  
"Look Sal-"  
  
"I'm serious. I don't know why you left, Noin, but you're obviously still in love with him. You can't just bury yourself in work and think that by doing that you'll forget".   
  
Noin had looked away, and Sally put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm not being nosey, really. But it's been-"  
  
"Two years, two months and six days," Noin finished with a rye smile. She was toying with the broccoli on her plate, and Sally's heart ached for the look on her face. Suddenly Noin looked up, meeting Sally's gaze squarely.  
  
"he started to drink a lot. Perhaps it had started before he resurfaced, but it didn't get bad until April or May of 198. He's got-he's got a lot of guilt, Sal. I thought I could help, but it seemed like I only made things worse-reminded him of his past, I guess. I talked to him about it-asked him if I should leave. He just said, "As you wish,"-you know," she shrugged, "Like he d  
id on Libra."  
  
"So you left?" Sally asked.   
  
"Yeah-I told him I was going. I left-he had drunk a lot the night before. When I told him I was going he just said, "I'm not surprised". I guess that was the straw that broke the camel's back-I'm not a meek person-don't laugh. You know what I mean. I'm not a doormat. We quarreled-his drinking came into it, and that was it. I haven't spoken to him since."  
  
"Sounds like you had every reason to leave," Sally commented acidly. "So how come you're still upset about it?"  
  
"It's not the fact that he was insensitive that bothers me," Noin explained, reaching for her glass of water. "If you want me to be honest, I suppose I'm still worried about him. The alcohol was interfering with his work. I can't help caring-I don't think I'll ever stop doing that."   
  
"Taking that all into account however," Sally pressed, "I don't think it's enough to explain why you're looking so pale."  
  
"Always the doctur, huh?", Noin asked, smiling slightly. "Like I said, I've been working a lot. Une gave Cierra and me the L3 Q-Z cluster, and you know how nearly impossible fully patrolling that area can be." She pushed back her chair, draining the last vestiges of liquid from her glass as she did so.   
  
"Tell me about it," groaned Sally, also rising. "Thanks so much for the meal. I love traditional Chinese, but every once in a while I get this awful craving for grease!"  
  
*****  
  
Lying in the darkness, Sally pondered Noin's words.   
  
Milliard Peacecraft lives on the Mars colony, she thought. Or at least, he used to. That little bio-sphere can't really even be called a colony yet. It's the perfect place for a well-known former OZ commander. Even with the amnesty, there are bound to be a lot of people who would love to get there hands on him. She punched her pillow, willing it to somehow inflate a little more. I've got to see about getting another one while we're on Mars. Hey! This'll be the first time Wufei and I will have been dirt-side for anything other than a scouting mission in nearly three months. Better make the most of it-this'll probably be the last time before the annual meeting in May.   
  
As she drifted off to sleep, Sally's last thought was directed toward a man several million miles away. Milliard, if I happen to run into you, be prepared for a piece of my mind. 


	9. Counting the Cost

April 26 AC 201  
  
With an impatient sigh, Lucretzia Noin tossed aside the rough draft of the report she had been writing for the last three hours. Paperwork, she thought, rubbing the back of her neck. I understand why the government wants a full explanation of every mission we complete, but couldn't they afford to make the requirements a little less stringent?  
  
Stretching, she swiveled her chair around until it faced the row of tall windows that comprised nearly one whole wall of her office. The deep blue curtains had been drawn back, and Noin had an unobstructed view of the sprawling city below. A gentle spring rain pattered against the glass, and as she watched a pair of bedraggled-looking doves alighted upon the brightly colored awning of a small shop across the street. With much fluttering and pecking, the two retreated under the slight shelter afforded by the overhanging edge of the roof above. She smiled, watching the two preen their damp wings.   
  
"Slacking off again, Noin?"  
  
Startled, she looked around to see her partner, Cierra Adesa, leaning against the doorframe.   
  
"You know it," Noin responded, rising and stretching a second time. "If I have to look at that computer for one more minute..."  
  
"Is that piece of crap giving you trouble again?" inquired the other woman,   
advancing into the room. "I thought you called maintenance this morning."  
  
"Oh, it's working all right now-too well. That's the problem. Actually, right now I'm just editing. Oh, thanks." She accepted one of the two steaming mugs Cierra was holding with a grateful smile. "Something tells me I'm going to be here late."  
  
Setting her own cup down on the desk that faced Noin's, Cierra glanced momentarily at a formidable looking stack of papers, then shook her head and turned   
back to her partner. "Just think of it this way-next time, it'll be me doing the report, and you can run the errands." Noin's desk lamp, the only light currently on in the oversized office, sent out a comfortable glow that illuminated Cierra's attractively dark features. The green Preventer uniform became her lean figure well, but was in stark contrast to the varicolored beads that adorned her countless braids.   
  
"that'll certainly be satisfying," commented Noin, sipping her coffee. "Oh, by the way, were you able to find out when Sally and Wufei are due in again?"  
  
"Next weekend, according to Lady Une." She grimaced. "I know I should say Minister or something PC like that, but ever since I became a member of OZ I've thought of her as Lady."  
  
"Don't worry," responded Noin, moving back to her desk. "I still call her Lady in private-she gives me a weird look sometimes, but she's never reprimanded me for it." Frowning, she scrolled down through the document she had been revising, noting that there were still nearly six pages of unedited text. "When does this have to be in by...Monday?"  
  
"Yeah-that'll make five work days since we've been dirtside."  
  
Noin pressed the save icon, carefully allowing the antiquated computer ample time to obey her command before she shut it down. "You know, the coffee was a nice thought but I think I'm done for tonight. I know I said I'd stay late, but I just can't bring myself to concentrate on this stuff any more right now."  
  
"Todd's in this weekend, huh?" inquired Cierra. Noin glanced up sharply, and was more than a little unsettled by her friend's knowing smirk.  
  
"Yes," she replied, guardedly watching Cierra. "Your point?"  
  
"Oh, don't give me that. It's fairly common knowledge that you two have been seeing each other. We're both in our mid-twenties-isn't that a bit old for schoolgirl modesty?" She tossed her head, setting the beads clinking.  
  
A lot you know, Noin Thought, but she said merely, "We're just friends, ok."  
  
Cierra frowned, looking both puzzled and annoyed. "I don't know how you feel about it, Noin, but it's plain as day to anyone who's watched you two together that he's head over ears for you." Her Southafrican accent, dulled though it had been by years of absence from her homeland, lent Cierra's odd phraseology an air of wisdom.   
  
Noin stood silent for a moment, gazing out the window at the raindrops forming tiny rivers that plunged as waterfalls over the edge of the awning across the road. The gentle sound of the rain as it pattered against the Preventer's headquarters created a soothing contrast to the growing disquiet within her.   
  
I don't care for Todd the way Cierra thinks I should-the way he thinks I should, for that matter. He's been a good friend these past few years. It's funny. The man who shot Dekim Barton...I would have guessed he'd have more emotional problems. But he's so pragmatic. I suppose that's why assasinating his leader wasn't very traumatic for him-he saw that Dekim was wrong, and decided to rectify the situation. For him, it was as simple as that.   
And yet...after Zechs, and all the turmoil that loving him-I did love him, despite everything-after all the turmoil associated with that relationship, I can't bring myself to consider anyone else as a potential mate. It isn't as though I haven't tried--She nearly laughed aloud, thinking of the list of men she had attempted to become interested in. There's something about his unpredictability...something about the feeling of dangerous power I get when I'm near him. It's odd, since I've seen him at his most powerful, and at his weakest. Something should have replaced that feeling...but it hasn't.  
  
"Noin?"  
  
She turned slowly, and found Cierra watching her. "I'm sorry, Cierra, I just can't."  
  
"What are you apologizing to me for? It's Todd I'd be worried about if I were you."  
  
"He's a pretty level-headed guy. He'll survive."  
  
"You going to tell him soon?"  
  
"There's nothing to tell-we've been seeing one another, but only as friends."  
  
Cierra bit her lip, and Noin wondered if she had a special interest in Todd's well-being. If she has, she could have told me. Without another word, the dark-skinned woman crossed the room and retrieved their jackets from the hook behind the door. Noin accepted hers with a nod of thanks, but made no move to put it on. Instead, she turned back to the window.  
  
"You want a ride home?"  
  
"No thanks. I think I need the walk."  
  
Cierra snorted. "Being jammed together in a shuttle the size of a cheap RV isn't exactly the ideal way to get exercise, huh?"  
  
Noin shook her head.  
  
"You ok?"  
  
"Yeah...just a little tired. See you on Monday?"  
  
"God willing," Cierra smiled mischievously. "This weekend, I'm going to party,   
so if I can't think come next week don't worry, it will have been worth it." She waved cheerfully, then disappeared down the hall, the door clicking shut behind her.  
  
Noin stood for a long time, one palm pressed flat against the cool windowpane. Her thoughts were running in several dozen directions at once, and she let them wander for a while, just enjoying the silence. Cierra was a kind woman, and an excellent partner, but she had a need for constant noise that Noin often felt bordered on disruptive.  
  
She hadn't thought about Zechs in a while. At least, not willingly. It wasn't that she resented his actions toward her-she understood him too well for that.   
  
He's a man torn by two pasts. He tried to become two men. It didn't work, and the one must live with the deeds of both. I can understand why Milliard Peacecraft wanted to destroy the Earth. It has traditionally been the breeding ground for wars and dissension. He lost his homeland twice-it's not surprising that in his grief, feeling the lack of a defining identity he wished to rid the universe of what seemed like the cause of all its problems  
.  
Yet now he realizes that in attempting what he did on Libra, he stooped to the lowest level-used the worst tactics he could have. In doing so, however, he did the world a favor. He demonstrated to the earth and colonies alike that their desire to conquer and bring about peace through the use of force had only resulted in the technology to dehumanize war ant to destroy mankind. All the methods attempted by previous governments-the Alliance's peace through domination and conquest, Treize's attempt to bring about peace through force and revolution, and Romafeller's attempt to rid the world of war through intimidation-it all failed. But Zechs did for the world what he attempted to do for Relena in Antarctica-he showed everyone how dirty and foul war really is. He tried to show me too, when he sent that report about Alex and Muler. She smiled sadly, thinking of her own reaction to that blatant criticism. He knows war, and   
he knows soldiers. I just wish he'd come to understand himself better-the part of himself that isn't tainted.   
  
She shook her head, allowing her long bangs to curl down over one eye. "Zechs, you did what your father would have wanted-you brought about peace. The only problem was, you had to betray his memory to do it." Still the rain fell, washing the streets clean of dust and grime, and creating a silvery sheen along the roads. They reflected back the headlights of a hundred cars passing far below, creating a sort of glowing mist.  
  
A light tapping on the dor made her jump. I wonder who it could be at this hour? It's nearly... She glanced quickly at the old-fashioned face clock hanging above Cierra's desk. Six thirty on a Friday night. "Come in."  
  
The door swung open with only the faintest hint of creaking hinges.   
  
Well, at least that's one thing they keep in good condition around here.   
  
A short, rather irritated-looking older woman appeared, framed by the light of the corridor's florescent bulbs. Her rather dowdy dress had the appearance of having been ironed only seconds before, and a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles sat at an all too precise angle atop her nose. Noin groaned inwardly.   
  
I thought this old hag had been replaced. Cierra almost strangled her last time...  
  
"Miss. Noin, there's someone here to see you," announced the woman, in a voice strongly reminiscent of nails being drawn across a chalkboard. "I told him to go away, but he insisted that he simply must see you tonight." There was no mistaking the deep disapproval in the secretary's tone.  
  
Swallowing her own annoyance at the woman's audacity-how dare she send someone away without asking her?-Noin asked, "Did he give his name?"   
  
"No. But he has the most appalling hair-"  
  
"I'm sorry that his appearance doesn't meet with your approval, Margaret. Please send him in."   
  
I wonder if one of the other departments needs a secretary. I'd screen my own phone calls, Cierra's and everyone else's just to be rid of her.   
  
With an offended sniff, the now thoroughly aggravated secretary retreated, making no attempt to close the door. So much for peace and quiet, thought Noin as she strode over to the far wall, where she activated several switches on the lighting panel. Now, in addition to the dim illumination produced by her study lamp, several moderately bright ceiling fixtures began to bathe the room in a comfortable glow. On her way past, she absently kicked the door closed.   
  
No need to make it seem as though I welcome work-related visitors at this time on a Friday Night. I wonder, could it be...   
  
Quelling that thought almost immediately, Noin considered the problem of her secretary. I'm going to have to talk to Cierra and some of the others about registering a complaint. It isn't like this is the first time Margaret's done something like this. Every call or visitor we Preventers get could mean the difference between the calm continuation of peace and a disaster.   
  
Dismissing that problem for the moment, Noin hastily checked her face in the slightly cloudy mirror that hung to the left of her desk. Perhaps it was the imperfection of the glass that made her look so pale.   
  
I should really take more time off. Maybe Sally was right-but I've got so much to do. Besides, I enjoy being in space.   
  
Her appearance hadn't changed much in the five years since the War had begun. Her black hair was still short and somewhat wayward, but Noin found that particular style extremely convenient, since it required little maintenance and did not generally get in her way. She had also lost a little weight, but that could never really be considered a misfortune. .   
  
The heavy wooden door creaked, and Noin looked up to see a tall young man standing just inside her office. His blond hair was swept forward into an almost preposterously pointy bang, and his one visible emerald eye gazed at her speculatively.  
  
"Trowa!" she gasped. 


	10. The Past Lives On

April 23 AC 201  
  
Wufei awoke sweating. Hastily sitting up, he slammed his hand against the plate that would activate the light fixture above his bed. As a dim glow filled the room, he gazed down at his trembling hands, willing them to stop shaking and his breathing to come under control.   
  
The nightmares hadn't come In quite some time. But tonight was different-probably triggered by his battle with the guards at the Calisto mobile suit production facility.   
  
It had been the same as always-starting with Mailin's death. In his dreams he knew what was going to happen, but somehow he couldn't ever prevent it. Then would come the episode at Lake Victoria, in slow motion. One cadet had seen him. Each time the nightmares came, Wufei saw his face, frozen in a mask of horror as the barracks irrupted into flames. Then the distruction of his clan, again in slow motion. Throughout the entire sequence he always felt a deep, pervasive sense of guilt. It combined with the sights, sounds and smells of war-becoming just as much a part of the reality of those things as Wufei himself had been.   
  
I didn't have to be so rough on those guards this evening. Most will recover but...  
  
"You fought for justice, Nataku. Did I? What is justice? Can I ever find it? I wanted to help...I joined the Preventers to help."  
  
A light tapping on the door panel of his cabin made Wufei stiffen. His left hand reached instinctively for the gun that always lay on the floor beside his bed.   
  
Then he was disgusted by his own fear. It was only Sally.  
  
"Wufei?" Her voice was muffled by the heavy metal door, but even so he was surprised and embarrassed by the relief he felt upon hearing it.  
  
"Yes," he called, trusting that she would interpret his terse response as permission to open the door. She almost always understood him.  
  
This time was no exception. The panel slid back with an electronic whoosh, and he could see Sally's figure in the narrow, dimly lit corridor that separated their quarters. A cloud of tousled golden hair half obscured her face, and her navy blue dressing-gown was unbuttoned, revealing a pair of gray flannel pajamas. He noticed with a vague feeling of surprise that her pajama top sported the large picture of a crazily grinning purple cat   
  
"I couldn't sleep," she said. "I heard you moving around and was just wondering if you wanted some tea?"  
  
She was lying, of course. He hadn't moved. Doubtless he had cried out in his sleep, disturbing her. However, Wufei appreciated the fact that she was willing to preserve his dignity.   
  
"Sure," he replied, climbing out of bed and hoping that his legs didn't tremble too much.   
  
I won't let her pity me.   
  
Pushing several strands of hair out of her eyes, Sally turned and led the way to the shuttle's tiny, somewhat inconvenient kitchen unit. To Wufei's surprise, she didn't turn on the automatic beverage maker. Instead, she hauled herself up onto the counter in what he considered a most unladylike way-not that most things Sally did were ladylike in the first place-and began to rummage around on the top shelf of one of the cupboards.   
  
"What on earth are you looking for?" he inquired, taking a seat at the tiny, fold-out table.   
  
"I stowed some real tea leaves up here when we left L4867," she replied. "Ahah! I knew they were up here somewhere." She held up a small blue cardboard box, then looked down, frowning. Grinning sheepishly, she tossed the box of tea leaves to Wufei, who caught it easily. After carefully lowering herself to the ground she dragged the tea kettle out from under a pile of other metal pots and pans.  
  
Wufei's heart was still beating rather too quickly for his liking, but he was relieved to find that his limbs had stopped quivering. Almost.   
  
"I hope you never get married," he commented sourly. "Your husband will always find his home in a state of extreme disorder."  
  
"My husband," she retorted with a scowl, "will help keep his home clean or will simply have to live with the consequences of my housekeeping.   
  
Although Wufei would not allow himself to smile at her response, he was pleased.   
  
I don't know why. She's obstinate, headstrong, disrespectful-all the things a woman should not be. And yet...   
  
He watched her as she made their tea. She was nearly four years older than himself, but after several growth spurts Wufei was finally taller. Her hair shown softly in the dim light emitted by the room's one overhead fixture. She could have turned the lamp up brighter, he realized suddenly.   
  
Probably trying to let me hide my fear-no, he amended-Disquiet, in the shadows.   
  
"Here." Sally handed him a steaming cup of tea, then opened the cupboard again and fished out a long package of crackers. "It's not fancy, but for a midnight snack it'll work just fine." Depositing the crackers on the table, she retrieved her own cup of tea and sat down opposite him.   
  
"Thank you," he said, after taking a small sip. "It's good."  
  
She smiled. Praise from him was rare, and he hoped she was sensible of the compliment.   
  
Don't kid yourself, Wufei. You're not just thanking her for making your tea.   
  
"No problem. Like I said, I couldn't sleep."  
  
"Sally?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you remember when you asked me who Nataku was?"  
  
She frowned, coloring slightly, and Wufei was almost certain he saw her wince. "How could I forget. I thought for sure I'd just about lost my partner." The smile was back on her vace, but it was absent from her voice.  
  
He sat for a moment, gazing out the small round window beside the table.   
  
Space is so vast.   
  
Finally he turned his head and met Sally's eyes. "She was my wife."  
  
Sally's eyes widened, but she said nothing. He continued, slowly. "We were married in 194. Shortly after our union, the Alliance decided that our colony was obsolete, and that the Long clan was too dangerous to be left alive. They sent troops to eliminate us with biological weapons-such cowards."  
  
Sally carefully replaced her teacup on it's saucer. He realized, vaguely, that she had been holding it suspended, halfway to her mouth since he had begun speaking.   
  
"My wife's name was Mailan, but she called herself Nataku-I trust you know that legend." She nodded. "I was scholarly-I knew how to fight but I thought battle senseless and a waste of a man's life. I refused to call her Nataku, because she scorned by devotion to learning and because I could beat her in a fight."   
  
Why are you telling her this?  
  
"When the Alliance forces attacked-I don't understand why but their efforts were thwarted by a large number of OZ mobile suits. I presume they were dispatched on the same mission-to wipe out our clan-but Treize, as much as I hate what he stood for, was not a coward. Mailan...Nataku...knew of the existence of Shenlong and the prototype Tallgeese on which it's design had been based.." Images of that fateful battle exploded behind his eyes-Mailan's defiance, his belated attempt to assist her, the brilliant explosions of mobile suits and the strangely beautiful blasts of firing weapons. With an extreme effort Wufei kept his voice calm as he continued, gazing fixedly out the window.   
  
"I wouldn't help her defeat them at first. But she wasn't trained to handle a mobile suit the size of Tallgeese. By the time I got there, she had taken several hits." His voice sank lower, and suddenly Wufei realized that he was holding the handle of his teacup clenched in one fist, while the rest of the fragile vessel remained peacefully settled in its saucer. Deliberately, he set the broken piece of china back on the metal surface of the table, and made an effort to focus his gaze on Sally's face. The dim light made it difficult for him to read her expression, but he was distantly surprised to see that she was looking very pale.   
  
I didn't think she'd be the type to let a story like this upset her. Perhaps she's not as strong as I thought.   
  
"So what happened?" Sally asked, breaking the momentary silence that had suddenly filled the small room.   
  
"We defeated the OZ mobile suits, of course. But Nataku was mortally injured, and died almost as soon as we returned to the colony. I don't know why the alliance troops never carried out there biological attack." He clenched his fist again, gritting his teeth. "It doesn't matter-my clan was destroyed less than a year later. But at least there deaths were honorable."  
  
Wufei gazed down at his teacup. The seconds ticked past, marked by the muffled sound of an old-fashioned face clock perched on a narrow shelf above the sink. He wasn't certain what had prompted him to divulge the story of Nataku to Sally. It was definitely none of her business-he had nearly requested a new assignment once before when she had pressed him on that subject. Why did I reveal my weakness to her?   
  
"So." Sally's voice broke the stillness, causing him to look up from the table rather sharply. "You named your Gundam Nataku in honor of your wife?"   
  
"In honor of the fact that she fought for justice."  
  
"Thank you for telling me, Wufei."   
  
She looks very strange.   
  
"I'm going back to bed," he said, rising. As he passed the sink, Wufei deposited his saucer and broken teacup in the basin-that was one of only a few points he had ever conceded to his partner. Sally was adamant that he should contribute at least occasionally to the completion of some few basic domestic chores that needed to be performed on their shuttle.   
  
"Wufei?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Why...why did you tell me about Nataku?"  
  
"I thought you wanted to know?"  
  
"I did, but...well, you've never-"  
  
"Let it alone!" The words were out before he could prevent them, and not knowing what else to say Wufei beat a hasty, but dignified retreat down the narrow passage to his room. At least, he hoped it was dignified.   
  
Sally, I have no idea. 


	11. Something Strange

April 26 AC 201  
  
For a moment, Noin was nearly unable to believe her eyes.   
  
"I wondered if you'd remember me," Trowa remarked. To her increased amazement he augmented his statement with what she could almost swear was a friendly smile.   
  
What in the world...?  
  
"I have some information for you," he said without preamble, advancing toward her desk.   
  
"Please, sit down," she said, hastily collecting her wits.   
  
I don't know what he's doing here, but it's got to be important to bring the reclusive pilot of Gundam 03 out of hiding.   
  
She was half tempted to demand that he tell her where he had been and what he had been doing, but repressed the urge, knowing that if she did as she liked she would more than likely earn herself a surly retort.   
  
"I can't stay long," Trowa responded, taking the seat she indicated. "I don't want anyone to pay too much attention to the fact that I've been here, so I'll be brief." He reached into the pocket of his denim jacket and drew out a black data cylinder. "This was sent to me earlier this week on a tightbeam transmission that I couldn't trace. I suspect, however, that it came from the L4 cluster."  
  
Noin accepted the cylinder somewhat dubiously. "What is it?"   
  
"You'll have to bring up the data it contains in order for me to explain."   
  
Obediently, she inserted the small black object into the drive on her computer, and flicked the switch that would allow it's contents to be displayed on a viewscrene built into the wall. Within seconds, an image appeared, but it was blurry and out of focus.  
  
"Hold on," she said apologetically, reaching over and turning several knobs in an attempt to sharpen the image. "Why its...It looks like the L4 and L5 colony clusters.. How come those," she indicated several colonies and small asteroids, "are marked in red?"   
  
"I was hoping you might be able to tell me," responded Trowa, moving to stand before the screen. "There are several colonies and a number of Jupiter's moons that are marked in blue as well." Reaching over to her keypad, Trowa punched several buttons and the area covered by the display broadened until the entire solar system was visible.  
  
"I wonder," she mused, coming to stand beside him.   
  
He's taller than I am, she thought. He'd be about twenty-one now, wouldn't he?  
  
"I take it you have no further information about this," she gestured toward the diagram. The image itself seemed harmless enough, but the fact that it had been sent anonymously to a former Gundam pilot whose identity had been carefully guarded, gave Noin the impression that she ought not to dismiss this out of hand.   
  
And if Trowa thought it was important enough to bring it to me in person...  
  
"No," he sounded genuinely regretful. "I thought the Preventers might know something I don't. to be honest," his one visible eye met her gaze openly, "I've been deliberately avoiding involvement in any hot situations that have come up recently. I don't have to worry about this stuff any more."  
  
Noin continued to gaze at the image on her viewscrene. She was touched-had always been touched by the Gundam pilots, this one in particular.   
  
They were merely children-we all were, but they made the hardest decisions, and took on the greatest responsibilities.. I hope they've found happiness, now that their ordeal is finally over.   
  
"I wonder... You did say L4, didn't you?"  
  
"That's where it came from I think. Why?"  
  
"Do you suppose it's from Quatre?"  
  
The young man beside her shook his head. "I hear from him periodically. If it was from him, he would've made that plain." Extending his hand, Trowa continued, "I'm sorry to disappear so fast, but like I said, I don't want my visit to be noticed."  
  
She shook the hand he offered, retaining it for a moment longer than necessary. "I'm glad to see you. I was beginning to wonder if you guys had vanished completely from the universe."  
  
He smiled. "No, but I've been lying low. My sister doesn't want me getting mixed up in politics any more than I have to." There was no doubting the warmth in his voice, and Noin smiled as well.   
  
"I'm glad you're happy. If you don't mind, I'd like to show this to Lady Une."  
  
A rather odd expression flickered across his face, so briefly that Noin wasn't even sure she had seen it. Then he shook his head. "No, that'll be fine. I suspect she has some more detailed information than even you yourself. After all, you work the L3 cluster, don't you?"  
  
She nodded, holding open the door. It was good to see you, Trowa." With a slight laugh she added, "you must not be lying too low. Information about the Preventers' assignments is something more than classified you know?"  
  
He nodded, regarding her steadily for a moment. "Call it a permenant curse," he said.   
  
Then he walked away.  
  
She blinked, half tempted to call him back. Something about his last remark didn't quite make sense. She thought better of it, however, and again shut the office door. Leaning against the corner of cierra's cluttered desk, Noin surveyed the glowing chart once again. The Colonies, situated as they were at the La'Grange points, were not themselves far removed from the Earth. But inhabitants of each cluster had spread to several large asteroids among the inner planets, which had been technologically adapted to support limited human life. While they were unstable habitations, the rich ore available in such places made the risk worth taking for a substantial number of colonists. She ran her finger through the air, remotely tracing a line between the color coded colonies and the asteroids that for the most part bore the initial number of the colonies from whence their explorers had come. There must be a connection...but what?  
  
Sighing, she switched the screen off and removed the data cylinder from her computer.   
  
I'll drop this off at Lady Une's on the way home.   
  
Her stomach rumbled tentatively, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since that morning. Noin grimaced, looking out the window. Darkness was falling fast, and it's advance was being hastened by the heavy cloud cover. She was probably going to have to get a cab-the walk to the quarter of the city where Lady Une lived was not very long, but in the dark and rain it had the potential to be extremely unpleasant. While donning her jacket and shutting off the lights, she continued to contemplate the mystery of Trowa Barton's sudden appearance and the strange chart.   
  
I wonder what it all means. Whoever sent him that cylinder must of course know that he was a Gundam Pilot. Who would that be, if not Quatre? And why Trowa? Why not Wufei-he works for the Preventers, after all.  
  
She shook her head, then swatted at the bangs that fel into her eyes. I just hope Lady Une has a better explanation for this 


	12. Loneliness and a Mission

April 26 AC 201  
  
Une heard the apartment door click shut, but she didn't look up from the cucumber she'd been slicing. It was only Mariemeia-no one else would have been allowed into this part of the building without security first calling ahead to obtain her permission. The life of ESUN's Minister of Prevention was just too valuable, it seemed. Une often found herself rather sinically amused by that concept. She heard her young charge drop her backpack on the floor of the entry hall, kick off her shoes and climb the stairs. No greeting passed between the two, a circumstance that was far from unusual.   
  
At least, I haven't got anything to say. That girl is just so quiet. I don't understand her at all.  
  
Laying aside her knife, Une moved over to the table which was piled high with her own papers and some of Mariemeia's books. She cleared two places by dint of further precarious stacking and sat down in one of the chairs, closing her eyes. Idly, she drew a lock of brown hair through her fingers, and began to toy with it aimlessly.   
  
I wish I knew how to love her-no, I wish I knew how to show her that I love her. I'm not a demonstrative person-not really. I know that children need to be shown affection, but I don't know how. My parents...  
  
she pushed that thought away. There was no use dwelling on the shadows of the past. The trouble now was her own daughter.   
  
I don't know when I started thinking of her as my daughter. Perhaps it's merely wishful thinking, since she is his Excellency Treize's child.. But even though that was all she was to me at first, now...I don't know what I'd do without her.   
  
Une frowned at the oddity of that truth. She and Her slight, copper-headed ward were far from being close, but somehow the child's presence had become an integral part of Une's life.   
  
Would you have known how to be a parent to this silent girl, Mr. Treize?   
  
Probably not, she admitted. Treize had been a born leader, a natural military and tactical genius. But for some reason he had abandoned Leigha Barton and her child. It was the only aspect of her former commander's life that Une often found herself questioning. The rest she understood, but his treatment of his own family seemed to her very unlike the man she had known.  
  
"Lady?"  
  
Une started, glancing at the door. "Yes?"  
  
"Is there any way I can help you?" Advancing into the room, Mariemeia laid yet another book on top of the stack Une had just moved. It looked like a science fiction novel, and Une drew it towards her, intrigued by the picture of what looked to be a golden dragon on the front cover.  
  
"Dragon Flight? Is it any good?"  
  
"Yes, very, but it was written several centuries ago," replied the redhead, sitting down across from Une. After a silent moment she asked, "How was work?"  
  
Une grimaced. "As usual, not very eventful. I'm glad, of course, that ESUN hasn't had to deal with any serious terrorist threats lately, but I must say it makes my job rather boring."  
  
Mariemeia regarded Une soberly, her wide blue eyes showing little emotion, while at the same time speaking volumes.   
  
She looks so wise for her years-if I didn't know her I'd never guess that she was barely eleven. She has her father's face. Doubtless she will be a captivating woman.   
  
Une was surprised. Where had that thought come from? Well, I guess it's not that odd--she's been showing signs of physical development for nearly three months now.   
  
"Lady?"  
  
"Hmmm,"  
  
"Can I help you. You...well, when I passed the door on my way into the living room you looked tired."  
  
Touched, Une replied, "There's not much left to do. That," she indicated the cucumber on the counter, "was the last part of the salad." Rising, she scooped up the slices and deposited them atop a small heap of vegetables already arranged in a glass bowl near the sink. "Dinner's ready, if you want to get some dishes out of the cupboard."  
  
The meal passed silently. Une and Mariemeia sat across from one another, and except for the slight clicking of cutlery the only sound was the soft ticking of an ancient grandfather clock in the living room.   
  
I wish I knew how to talk to her. There's something so secretive about that child-it's not that she's keeping anything from me deliberately. We just can't communicate for some reason. I thought that most pre-adolescent girls were supposed to be difficult. She has almost never argued with me-not since those first few weeks, when she was in the hospital. Perhaps She has too much pride to argue or throw tantrums. Or perhaps that's more of Dekim's influence. These four years have done much to change her outlook, but sometimes I wonder what deep, psychological effects Mariemeia's training with that man had on her.  
  
"It's nice when you're home to cook."  
  
"Thank you." Then, feeling as though she ought to say more, Une added, "I actually enjoy it. I'd take over the job from 'emma if I could, but most nights I just don't have time. However, she is certainly an excellent cook."  
  
"Too bad having a boring job doesn't mean a decrease in paperwork," observed Mariemeia, spearing a piece of chicken on her fork.  
  
Une smiled, but couldn't think of a reply.  
  
*****  
  
I love Friday Nights.  
  
Une closed her book and laid it on the coffee table. Settling back against the couch cushions, she concentrated on relaxing each taught muscle in her back, neck and shoulders. In the adjoining room she could hear mariemeia playing the piano. The lilting melody of an ancient ballad floated through the house, and Une found herself listening, eyes closed, as the notes washed over her, soothing and gentle.   
  
She's so talented. Her mother must have been an artistic person. Mr. Treize loved beauty, especially music, but I don't think he was particularly skilled at producing it himself.   
  
He had never said he loved her-at least, not in so many words. Many of his actions towrd her had hinted at his having a deeper attachment.   
  
Perhaps he believed that any relationship we might have would distract us both from our duties. Or perhaps he was-unsure.   
  
She contemplated that possibility, one hand resting gently on her knee, the other idley tracing the pattern on the apolstry. Treize always seemed to have a plan.   
  
Yet I wonder, did he always follow it as well as he intended to?  
  
And here I am, guardian to his child.   
  
Une's lips twitched. She, of all the soldiers who had fought during the war, had the least conceivable right to take on the care of an orphan. She had been ruthless, heartless, blindly following Treize's orders, many times mistaking his wishes in the heat of her own treacherous emotions.   
  
He told me to be more elegant. I nearly died of shame. Involuntarily, her left hand stole up to caress the spot on her own cheek where she had slapped Noin.   
  
I was jealous of Zechs, jealous of Noin because there recklessness produced a victory for OZ, while my attempts to eliminate Minister Darlian and his daughter-even my attempt to protect Mr. Treize himself-had all been only partially successful. I served him, yes, but there were so many times my actions must have disappointed him. He never showed it though, not as I myself would have if a subordinate of mine had been so careless.  
  
A very flat chord prompted Une to open her eyes. "That was very good," she called, trying to sound encouraging.  
  
"I mess that part up every time." Mariemeia appeared in the doorway, carrying a music book in one hand. Her copper curls were unbound and fell nearly to the shoulders of her red blouse, framing a rather pale face. The child's only distinctive features were her penetrating azure eyes, but they alone were enough to captivate almost anyone's attention.   
  
Before Une could think of a suitable response, the com unit in the front hall beeped loudly. Startled, she rose, half expecting it to be one of the Preventers calling with more bad news. Despite her comments to Mariemeia earlier, Une was considerably disturbed by Wufei and Sally's most recent report. The fact that they had only obtained limited information about the production of mobile suits on Calisto was rather irritating, as she couldn't take any formal action against the plant until its purpose had been clearly determined. However, given the situation, Une could understand why the two had pulled out.   
  
"I'll get it," she said, making her way through the double french doors of the living room into the hall. Their apartment was more like a good-sized house, situated on the top two floors of one building in the extremely attractive complex reserved for government officials in the newly rebuilt city of Brussels. Many of the Senators, Ministers and officials had their own homes in the capitals of their respective nations. However, few had homes in the new ESUN capital city, so a series of elegant, well-secured neighborhoods of apartment complexes had been erected to house them.   
  
Reaching the com, Une toggled the switch that would simultaneously stop the unit's beeping and give her a vid-link with the caller. To her surprise, the face that appeared on her viewscrene was not that of a Preventer, but merely the smiling visage of the building's top on-duty security officer.   
  
"Good evening, Minister. Hope I'm not disturbing you?"  
  
"Not at all, Max. What's up?"   
  
"There's a young woman down here, Ma'am, says she's a Preventer and that she needs to see you."  
  
Une rolled her eyes. "Would you mind putting her on-screen,," she requested, barely managing to keep her tone reasonably civil. Max's image disappeared, and Une shut her eyes, slowly counting to ten.   
  
Who would have the audacity to come over here on a Friday night? Couldn't it wait until Monday? A call would have been one thing, but to come all the way over here. Unless, she thought, it's something extremely serious.  
  
"Forgive my intrusion, Minister."   
  
"Noin."   
  
She wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. Not Noin.   
  
"Is there a problem?"  
  
"I'm not certain. That's why I decided to come tonight, rather than waiting over the weekend. Would you mind if I come up-I have something you might want to see."  
  
Of course," Une responded, then switched off the com. Frowning, she leaned back against it, one hand resting lightly on her hip.   
  
"I wonder what she's found. The last thing any of us needs is another colonial rebellion. At least this time..." She trailed off as Mariemeia poked her head around the door.   
  
"Is something the matter, Lady?"  
  
Une sighed. "No. Noin is headed up to discuss something work-related."  
  
Taking the hint, Mariemeia withdrew. "I'll go feed Tenison," she called, already half-way up the stairs. Une grimaced. She had reluctantly come to accept the child's fondness for reptiles, but the presence of a four foot python in one of the spare rooms still didn't sit quite well with her.   
  
The door to the apartment slid open just as Une heard Mariemeia enter her room. Lucretzia Noin stood framed in the opening, looking damp and more than a little tired.   
  
"I'm sorry to trouble you on a Friday night," she said, casting a slightly apprehensive glance at the former OZ Colonel.   
  
"Don't worry about it. If it was just about anyone else they'd have been sent away by com with a fairly large flea in their ear, but I know you wouldn't have come if it wasn't something that seemed urgent."   
  
Not to mention that you never go out of your way to see me unless you have to.   
  
"Please, leave your coat on that chair and come into the living room." Gesturing with one hand, Une led the way through the double doors, and indicated that Noin should take a seat on the sofa. Settling herself in a large armchair, Une looked expectantly at the darkhaired woman.   
  
"What's up?"  
  
"This," responded Noin, carefully withdrawing a data cylinder from her pants' pocket. "I received a surprise visit from Trowa Barton earlier this evening."  
  
"You're joking!"  
  
"No. I was taken aback as well. He stayed just long enough to give me this," she placed the cylinder on the coffee table, "and to tell me that he received the data it contains several days ago on an untracable tightbeam transmission from L4."  
  
Puzzled, Une picked up the small black object. "Quatre?" she suggested, half to herself. This was certainly not what she had been expecting. Did the former Gundam Pilots still make a habit of keeping track of ESUN security?   
  
"Trowa said probably not." Noin shook her head, looking rather appologetic. "He says they communicate periodically, and that Quatre would have indicated if the information had come directly from him." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.   
  
"What exactly is the information?" Une inquired, rising. She strode over to the computer terminal, discretely hidden behind a screen in the far corner of the living room. Inserting the cylinder, she waited impatiently while the machine whirred to life.   
  
Coming to stand beside her, Noin replied, "It looked to be a star chart...or at least, a fairly detailed map of this solar system."  
  
As if on cue, the small projection screen on the wall in front of the two women lit up, displaying the image of the solar system. All of the planets were visible, as well as the colonies, the main asteroid belt and all of the inhabited moons.   
  
"Why are some of the settlements marked in color?" Une moved around the terminal and went to stand directly beside the image. "Set this to 3D, will you?"  
  
Noin complied, rapidly keying in the appropriate commands. The image disappeared momentarily, then reappeared as a three dimensional model hovering just above the computer.  
  
"I have no idea why they're marked that way. I was hoping you might have some information I don't."  
  
Une did not respond. She was too absorbed by the task of identifying each of the color coded locations. "colonies in the L5 cluster, L4...Calisto." She frowned.   
  
Judging from Sally Po's last report, there's a mobile suit production factory on Calisto. Could there be more...perhaps concealed in the asteroid colonies.   
  
Absently, she noted that the other colony clusters, as well as Earth and the Mars settlement were unmarked.   
  
Une glanced at Noin, who was regarding her expectantly. "This afternoon, Sally Po got in touch with me-she and Wufei are on Mars, refueling. Apparently, there's a mobile suit production factory on Calisto."  
  
"They're certain?" asked Noin, a worried look entering her violet eyes.   
  
"Unfortunately, they can't get enough proof that isn't circumstantial. I can't take action without direct evidence, and all they found were high pollution levels, some Gundanium and a lot of mechanical noise. They were discovered before thy could be absolutely sure.   
  
"Wasn't the gundanium enough?"   
  
"No. several corporations have begun toexperiment with it's other possible uses, so the mere presence of Gundanium isn't enough to charge them. But the guards at he base had weapons as good as, possibly better than ours, so Sally and Wufei are pretty much convinced they stumbled on some sort of dissident cell. Noin..." Une's gaze came to rest once again on the map. "If all of these," she indicated the locations marked in blue, "are production facilities, we could have a significant problem on our hands."  
  
The two Preventers looked at one another, and Une was certain they were both thinking the same thing. Under ESUN law, the manufacture and distribution of mobile suits, for whatever purpose, was forbidden-even the government was not exempt.   
  
"If they decide to attack-which they must eventually plan to do-we're sitting ducks," said Noin.  
  
"First of all, I'd like to know who "they" are." Une removed the data cylinder   
from her computer, unlocked the top desk drawer and placed it carefully inside.   
  
"Remnants of the White Fang?"   
  
"No. I'm fairly certain they were all dealt with after that incident in 196." Une moved slowly to the window. Drawing aside the curtain, she instinctively looked for the stars-the stars that Treize had loved. But rolling storm clouds, reflecting back the city's million lights, obscured her view. For a moment she was silent, just watching the city.   
  
I wanted peace. We all wanted peace. So why must people always try to destroy it. There was a time when I would have asked Treize. Now that option no longer exists-I must resolve this on my own.   
  
Resolutely, Une turned to face her visitor. Noin was watching her, a pensive look in her eyes. "Thank you for bringing this to me promptly, Noin. I'm going to make some phone calls-and I'm going to need to get a team of people to do some research. I'll leave that up to you. I want to know who these people are, what they want, and how much support they have. I'm appalled that we weren't aware of this threat sooner."  
  
"Yes Ma'am!" 


	13. The Chain of Command

May 2 AC 201  
  
The man known to his subordinates only as Sir pushed back his chair from the console at which he'd been seated for more than three hours. His sudden movement prompted everyone else in the room to look in his direction, there faces displaying varying degrees of apprehension and interest.   
  
"Did you find anything?" inquired Daniel Mortimer from his position near the satellite tracking station.   
  
"Unfortunately, yes. Everybody listen up," he added. The command was unnecessary-all eyes in the room were focused on him.   
  
"She says they've finally found our trail-seems one of the agents got a mysterious visitor."  
  
"You mean we've got a bug?" asked Leslie Jackson, frowning down at the half empty coffee cup in her hand.   
  
"Possibly. But at this point, we can't be sure who it is. There's no way to know." He got to his feet, smoothing out the creases that had gradually appeared in his jacket during the three hours he had just spent virtually immobile. "I'll inform the boss. Masterson," he leveled his gaze at a dour-looking blond man in the far corner of the information center. "I want you to see what they know. I don't care how you do it. She says it's something about a map, but she can't make too many inquiries."   
  
"You got it."  
  
He exited the room, pondering irritably how to break the news of this security breech to his superiors.   
  
*****  
  
"Well, this is certainly unexpected," commented the old gentleman dryly. The viewscrene on the wall was not of the highest quality, but even through the gritty distortion it created he could see the huge emerald ring adorning the other man's right index finger. When the gentleman got angry, he would twist the ring slowly with his ring finger and thumb.   
  
He was twisting it now.   
  
"So, we don't know how this information leaked-and to make matters worse, we don't even know what the information is. It seems to me that you've been a bit remiss in your duties, young man."  
  
"Forgive me, Sir."   
  
The old gentleman drummed his long, wrinkled fingers against the smoothly polished wood of his desk. He looked as though he was contemplating something. Finally he spoke again, looking directly at the young man.   
  
"Let me offer you the opportunity to redeem yourself. If you were to make a guess, based on what our informant has told you, what would you suggest this information might be?"  
  
He thought for a moment. His answer to this question would decide his fate, and the young man was fully aware of what the consequences were likely to be if he was wrong.  
  
"I'm waiting."  
  
"Sir...I believe, based on what we know, that it was a chart of some kind...perhaps a map of the whereabouts of some of our facilities. We did chase those Preventers away from the Calisto plant... Of course, that was a few days earlier, but..."  
  
"Very astute, young man," replied the old gentleman. "I would be willing to wager a great sum of money that your suspicions are correct. Of course, have your team find out for certain, and then get in touch with me again. In the meantime," and he fixed his listener with a frosty stare that penetrated to his very bones, "Who among our personnel would have had access to a complete chart of the bases?"  
  
More sure of his footing this time, the young man answered quickly. "Only Silence, Sir...any one of them might have provided the information."  
  
"How distressing," mused the old gentleman. "You are correct once again. I find it disturbing and more than a little frustrating that our most elite force may not be as wholeheartedly in our service as we had thought. I shall have to consult the others on this matter. Dismissed." And with that, the screen went black.   
  
For a long time the young man remained standing, seemingly rooted to the spot he had occupied throughout the duration of his conversation with the old gentleman. If the informant was indeed a member of Silence, he or she would not be easy to catch. Unless...  
  
Rapidly, he punched in the same code he had dialed only twenty minutes earlier. After what seemed like an interminable pause the old gentleman's face reappeared on the screen.  
  
"Again, young man? I certainly hope you don't have more bad news." The old man's eyes spoke of dire consequences if such were indeed the case.  
  
"No, Sir. I have an idea." 


	14. Among the Stars

May 3 AC 201, L1F136  
  
He flipped the light switch again, automatically, not bothering to hope that the repeated action would cause the single bulbe in his ceiling to show any hint of turning on. It was a strange day indeed when everything in this apartment worked, and he'd far rather come home to a dusky grayness in his livin groom than a fridge full of slowly melting groceries.  
  
It wasn't that he couldn't afford better lodgings. He could have afforded that and more, had he wished to. But Sho Mitsuno was a modest man, just as his predecessor had been.  
  
He thought of himself as Sho these days. The all consuming tenacity which had allowed him to focus almost exclusively on his missions had not abated, and on the day that he had made the decision to shed his past, he'd allowed that one part of himself to remain. It had proven useful, although many of his co-workers had found his often intense devotion to whatever project he'd been asigned somewhat unnerving, they could not doubt that his all or nothing attitude produced results.  
  
As he shut the heavy wooden door onto the corridor, the last of the florescent glow from it's long fixtures disappeared, leaving him standing in semidarkness. Striding purposefully over to the long window that filled three quarters of the wall of the main room, Sho dragged aside its heavy blue curtains and stood gazing through the glass.  
  
L1 hadn't changed much, except that the people were better dressed, and there were fewer scrawney, dirty children shuffling along waiting for pockets to pick. His apartment overlooked a busy main street, and Sho liked to watch the women and children hurry past, laden with packages and pushing full grocery carts. The fact that there were far fewer men than there had once been was troubling, but that was something he couldn't fix.  
  
Turning from the window, Show moved over to where a low table stood against one wall. He fumbled among the papers, T-shirts and empty glasses littering it's surface until his hand came in contact with a box of matches. Striking one, he proceeded to light several candles located in various places throughout the room. He enjoyed there soft glow, often preferring to light them rather than illuminate the ceiling fixture.  
  
He'd never admit it to anyone, but he had a sentimental side that thrived on things like the golden glow of firelight and the neat arrangement of plants and flowers on a low table below the window. It made him feel human, he supposed.  
  
That was another luxury he could afford these days.  
  
A hasty search of the refrigerator and nearly empty cupboards revealed two things--firstly, that he was in desperate need of a trip to the grocery store, and secondly, that for the fourth night that week he was going to be reduced to eating soup and some variety of sandwich. Resigning himself to his fate, Sho carried his meager dinner back into the living room and sat down at his desk, placing the food on a low stool near his elbow.  
  
Old habits certainly died hard, he reflected, waiting as the screne of his much abused laptop computer flickered to life. He permitted himself a wry smile. He was as bad as other men, making promises to themselves and breaking them within a month.  
  
He'd tried to eliminate all traces of his former life. As his figure had transformed from that of a wirey youth into that of a full grown man, six feet tall and muscular, the tight fitting jeans and tanktops of his youth had been replaced with khakis and comfortably fitting shirts. He had even been known to sport the occasional sweater, upon the appearance of which the female employees at the resource facility where he worked could be seen to refrain from drooling only with a supreme effort.  
  
That amused him. He'd attempted to become interested in some of them--yet another concession to his change of roles--but the truth was that awkward, often tittering girls just out of their teens irritated him. He was too matter of fact for their circuitous chatter, and too deliberate to make any attempt at physical contact seem less than perfunctory and lacking in spontaneity.  
  
He didn't mind. If his one experience of the tenderer passions was any indication, being in love was an awkward affair--a state of being exactly calculated to make a person irrational and indecisive.  
  
He often caught himself wondering how she was doing--how her steely resolve was holding up under the constant barrage of criticisms and the endless flash of camera bulbs. Of course, she'd grown up with that sort of attention, so perhaps it was for her as meager meals and broken light bulbs were for him--an inescapable reality of life.  
  
But then again.  
  
It had been largely to avoid her notice that he'd changed his name. It wasn't that he resented the effect she had on him--in fact, he'd enjoyed it a good deal. But for the sake of both of their effectiveness in the roles which they'd chosen to adopt, any connection between the two of them needed to be severed.  
  
As it was, it was beginning to appear very likely that he'd bee seeing her again soon. Snapping out of his reverie, Sho began to make his way through the endless series of procedures necessary to circumvent Preventers' security network. Personally, he was of the opinion that Une had been the absolute worst choice for head of ESUN's only defense organization. She'd been too long under Treize's spell, too often led, to be an effective leader in her own right. It surprised him sometimes that Wufei wasn't doing more from the inside. Of course, his proximity to the intermittent troubles plaguing the earth sphere would put him under suspicion, but Sho had seen the occasional signs of his discreet handiwork enough to know that he was watching too.  
  
Of course, this most recent disturbance had taken the entire organization by surprise. It had been careless of whoever had delivered that message to Noin to have allowed her to show it to anyone not immediately concerned with the problem. The bug had picked up on the extra activity within less than a day. Without surveillance data it was impossible for Sho to know either who the mysterious messenger had been, or who the spy was. But there was a little time yet. Knowing how cumbersome Preventers' operations tended to be, he'd only have to wait a few more days for the necessary information to leak.  
  
This was new. His hands paused above the keyboard, frozen in mid command as he scrutinized the data displayed on his screen.  
  
Extra personnel.dogs, screeners--a sardonic smile quirked one corner of his mouth. So, they were stepping up security at the upcoming ESUN world conference. Looking at the planns laid out on his screen, Sho felt an uneasy knot just begin to form in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't afraid- -he wondered, sometimes, if he still had the capacity to feel fear. He was, however, beginning to be apprehensive.  
  
The transmission he'd intercepted from L4C179 yesterday evening--"I have a plan". What better way to uncover a bug than to put them in a position of blowing their cover or.  
  
And the sons of justice were infamous among the fragmented pockets of rebellious ESUn citizens as a group who counted no costs. Would they be willing to accelerate what he suspected was there plan in order to prevent this security breech from foiling it altogether? And come to that, even with this extra help, could it be foiled, given their astronomically superior strength.  
  
Careless. Absolutely careless for Preventers to let this get so out of hand.  
  
Conscientiously he retraced his electronic steps through the maze of traps, bugs and invisible quicksand that protected the Preventers' network. When he had safely navigated his way back into harmless cyberspace, he rose and began pacing the room, slowly at first and then with increasing energy.  
  
Yet another habit he would not have indulged in five years ago. But those days were long gone.  
  
And worse days were ahead for the people of Earth and the colonies if the Preventers didn't remove their heads from their.well, that train of thought wasn't going to get him anywhere. Getting angry was what had so often caused Wufei and Duo to make mistakes.  
  
He paused in his perambulation, wondering if any of the others had the faintest idea of what was going on. He was almost certain Quatre and Duo were completely oblivious. That had been their clear intention in January of AC 197--to disappear back into the throng of humanity from which they'd all been wrenched as children. Not that Quatre had done much in the way of disappearing, he thought ironically.  
  
Trowa--perhaps he knew part of what was happening, but if that Catherine person had anything to say to it his information would be limited. For all Sho knew she'd convinced him that the affairs of ESUN's government were no longer his concern. Trowa had not been a pushover by any stretch of the imagination, but his fondness for that girl who'd called herself his sister might have softened his resolve.  
  
Sho envied him, in a way, but now was not the time to dwell on that. He'd remained aloof from all but the most tenuous human contact in preparation for just such a situation as the one brewing now.  
  
And Wufei? That most enigmatic of all the pilots was, if Sho had any insight into his character, taking great pains to conform himself to his new role. Not that Wufei was lacking in inteligence or spirit--far from it. However, Sho had noted in the Chinese man a rather odd tendancy to throw himself wholeheartedly into the actualization of whatever image he had conceived for himself at any given time. When convinced he was a loser, he acted that part. When convinced he was the avenging spirit of the soldiers thrown away at the close of a war, he had executed that role as well with a heart-felt fervor Sho envied for it's resolution.  
  
Wufei would not stray beyond the bounds of the new pattern he'd laid out for himself until the shock of what was happening hit him with sufficient violence to revive the heart of a warrior--the heart he had forced to lie dormant these past five years.  
  
"And I," said Sho, moving once again to gaze out the window, "Will change my name again."  
  
The artificial sun had ceased to glow against the slowly darkening backdrop of the colony's celestually patterned dome. As the false blue of L1's day faded into the genuine blackness of space, Sho thought about the stars that gleamed softly beyond the manmade sphere that was keeping him alive at that very moment. And he thought about earth, as it's blue and white immensity became slowly visible above the false horizon, dwarfing the moon and reducing the stars to nearly invisible points of light.  
  
Man had not created earth. He wondered sometimes who, if anyone, had effected that miracle.  
  
She had believed in God. He wasn't certain he could accept that theory, but at times like this he supposed it must be nice to think there was someone out there, larger than the universe, watching out for you.  
  
He turned from the window and slowly blew out the candles. Gently lifting his computer from the des,k he inserted it into its carrying case and in turn slipped that into his backpack. Pausing just long enough to grab a jacket from the hook behind the door, Sho slipped out of his apartment, softly closing the door so as not to disturb the baby sleeping across the hall.  
  
She had just learned to sleep through the night, and her parents, a cheerful couple in their mid thirties, would not relish having their repose disturbed by a careless neighbor.  
  
The street was nearly deserted when he stepped out into the evening air. There were a few lights still on in one of the stores across the road, but most of the shoppers and workers had already gone home.  
  
Thinking all the while, flagged down a passing cab, and directed the aging driver to head toward the spaceport.  
  
"Where ya headed?" inquired the man conversationally, barely turning down the volume on the classical music blaring from his speakers.  
  
"L2," replied Sho, gazing vaguely out at the blur of passing traffic. "I just developed an overwhelming desire to visit an old friend."  
  
"Well, that's nice," responded the driver. "I remember once, I had a friend living on Earth--his name was /samuel--" Sho barely heard the man as they turned one corner, then another, traveling, as it seemed, ever faster.  
  
He wondered what Duo's reaction would be upon seeing him. If he refused to help--well, that would be unfortunate, but Duo's assistance in this matter would be purely an added boon. The cooperation of another party was, however, indispensable.  
  
Five years had caused him to relax some of his rigid habits of speech and manner, but the man once known as Heero Yuy had no doubt that he could still control a mobile suit.  
  
Even that one.  
  
"Looks like we're gonna be stuck in traffic for a while--some fella's gone and run his car right up into that wall--it'll take some time 'fore we can move."  
  
Sho made no reply, only demonstrating that he'd heard the other man by readjusting his legs into a more comfortable position.  
  
Perhaps, he reflected, Zero was the only thing that had the capacity to make him afraid. Then again, from the looks of things it was the only thing standing between ESUN and chaos. 


	15. A Gift Reluctantly Bestowed

The young Preventer's face showed a mixture of awe and keen interest as he guided his unexpected guest down first one sterile white corridor and then another. Relena was used to being regarded by men like agent Tiburon as something between a legendary heroine and an especially wily politician, and it was with difficulty that she refrained from informing the young man that she too put her pants on one leg at a time.  
  
Upon reaching their destination, Tiburon stepped aside.  
  
"I guess she's expecting you, right?"  
  
"Yes--at least, I told her I would be by this morning." Relena rapped briskly on the wooden panel that bore Lady Une's neatly engraved name plate. Within a few moments a dour looking secretary opened the door, nodded to Relena and gestured for her to come inside.  
  
"I'll just wait here, Ma'am, to escort you back out when you're done." Tiburon's tone was apologetic, and Relena felt sorry for him. It must be rather embarrassing to have to tell one of ESUN's top cabinet members that he had been assigned to ensure that she stayed only within those parts of this top secret building that she needed to see.  
  
Nodding her acknowledgment, Relena followed Une's aid into a dimly lit office and took a seat in the comfortable but decidedly utilitarian chair the older woman indicated with a brisk movement of her head.  
  
Clutching her briefcase tightly in her lap, Relena waited for nearly fifteen minutes. Resuming her work, the secretary neither spoke nor gave any other indication that she was aware her office had another occupant. Relena smiled, a tad nervously, only vaguely amused today by the idea that Une had found an aid as taciturn as she herself could be at times.  
  
Ever since that afternoon in the art museum, Relena had been planning word for word what she would say during this interview. Despite her extensive forethought, now that she was faced with the imminent prospect of confiding her secret to Lady Une, ESUN's foreign minister suddenly found herself feeling squeamish. It wasn't that she feared Une would do something rash-- the former OZ leader had mellowed considerably in the five years since the dissolution of that organization. The thing that made Relena feel more than a little uncomfortable was the knowledge of what her upcoming disclosure might mean in terms of the status of ESUN's political and defensive security.  
  
As the door to the inner office opened she rose instinctively, only half paying attention to the person who stepped through it into the dimly lit reception area. She was so focused on collecting her thoughts into some semblance of order that the dark-haired woman had to speak her name twice before Relena realized who it was.  
  
"Have you forgotten me then, Foreign Minister?" Noin's violet eyes smiled down at her kindly.  
  
"Not at all," she responded, extending her hand. "I've just got a lot of things on my mind--I didn't notice it was you." Then, after an awkward pause, "How've you been doing?"  
  
"Well, thank you. I've been in space a great deal these past three years-- I don't think I'll ever get the stars out of my head."  
  
"I see." Another pause. The secretary was frowning at both women. "Well, the next time you're on Earth, you're welcome to give me a call. I'd enjoy your company for a few days--if you'd care to stay." She knew she sounded hesitant, and wished she could suppress the flush she could feel mounting to her cheeks.  
  
"I'd like that. Take care." With a nod and a quick smile she was gone, leaving Relena to proceed into Une's office accompanied by the melancholy thought that but for her brother's mercurial temperament Noin might have been her sister in law by now. Nevertheless, the chance meeting had raised her spirits somewhat and strengthened her confidence.  
  
"Good afternoon, Minister Darlian." Une was seated behind a large paneled desk, stacks of paper and computer printouts arranged before her in what looked like an attempt at order. The former OZ Colonel looked decidedly frazzled, with strands of her chestnut hair curling down from what had probably originally been a prim knot at the back of her head.  
  
"Good morning," replied her guest, moving to stand before the long row of windows that filled one whole wall of the large office. "I only hope it will remain so once I've told you my news."  
  
Best to cut to the chase immediately, she thought, rather than waste time. If she was wrong after all, Une wouldn't appreciate having a mole hill represented as a mountain.  
  
Une had swiveled her chair to face Relena, her eyes suddenly very keen. "If this is about Calisto."  
  
Relena shook her head, making a dismissive gesture with one hand. "I heard about that. Is there any truth to the rumor that what your agents saw was really the headquarters of a new dissident group?" Despite her resolution to get this over with as quickly as possible, Relena eagerly grasped at the chance to turn the subject for a moment. After all, if the rumors were true and Une's Preventers had been overlooking this new cell for years, there could be significant political ramifications. She'd allied herself too many times with Lady Une to be pleased if that were indeed the case. She'd even contradicted her own better judgment and urged parliament to channel more funds into the Preventers' defense research. A lapse as big as this appeared to have been would certainly hurt her credibility. And she'd had more than enough of mud slinging and petty squabbles recently to make the prospect of legitimate criticism seem anything less than wholeheartedly undesirable, not to say disastrous.  
  
How quickly public opinion could change.  
  
Une sighed. Relena thought she looked tired. "As far as we know, yes. However, we still don't know the whole story." She lowered her voice to a confidential murmur. Relena suppressed a sigh. So, this disclosure was between friends. So much for helping her case."We've been making subtle inquiries among the agents--you know, "did you see anything odd last time you were out near L5?"--that kind of thing. All of a sudden we're hearing reports left and right of suspicious incidents. The worst part is, most of the people we're talking to say they put detailed accounts in their formal reports, but when we go back and check the paperwork there's nothing mentioned at all." Une ran a hand across her forehead, then rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and put her chin in her palm.  
  
"A bug?" inquired Relena, unable to keep the note of concern out of her voice. This was worse than she'd thought.  
  
"We suspect so, but we're still trying to figure out who--and for how long. I can't tell you more--and I trust this won't go beyond the confines of this office." The Minister of Prevention fixed her comrade, guest and former enemy with a stern frown.  
  
"Of course," Relena responded smoothly, years of training allowing her to keep an equally severe expression off her face.  
  
"And your news?"  
  
Relena approached the big desk, opening her briefcase as she moved. She took out a small wooden box, about the size of the container a ring might come in with delicate engravings adorning it's lid and sides. She laid the box in front of Une as she said, "Several days ago I was visiting an art museum with Vice Foreign Minister Parker." As she spoke she unclasped the necklace she wore--a thin gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped locket dangling from it.  
  
"And?" inquired Une, looking half interested, half suspicious.  
  
"While riffling through a stack of drawings, I came across a roll of diagrams." She opened the locket, withdrew a small silver key and inserted it into an equally small slot hidden among the decorations on the box. It opened with an almost inaudible snap, and as the lid fell away Relena drew out a data cylinder.  
  
"Diagrams? What sort of diagrams--here, let me." she accepted the cylinder the younger woman held out and inserted it into the base of her computer. There was a faint whirring, then images began to scroll across the screen.  
  
"Damn." But she said it absently, as though her surprise was somehow not really surprise at all. "How many?"  
  
"All, I think. And some from OZ." She paused, then added, "Vice Foreign Minister Parker was a technology specialist with OZ. He tells me they're complete--and accurate."  
  
Une rose, slamming her fist down on the desk with enough force to set several of the neatly arranged piles of paper skittering to the floor. "This is ridiculous. We turned every military installation in the solar system upside down after the war in search of just this kind of information." A wry smile quirked her lips, although her eyes still smoldered. "Well, whoever hid these was a pretty smart guy--In the basement of an art museum they might be overlooked as just detailed sketches." She fixed her gaze on Relena. "What happened to the hard copies?"  
  
"They were disposed of." She was looking out the window again. "Parker transferred them himself."  
  
There was a long silence. Relena could hear Une drumming her fingertips on her desk. Finally, she spoke.  
  
"What would your suggestion be, Minister Darlian?"  
  
"With regard to?" she asked, playing for time.  
  
Une made an impatient noise. "These schematics, of course"  
  
Relena turned slowly to face the older woman. Somehow, even in her perfectly fitting business suit and heels, Une could always manage to make her feel like a school girl play acting the role of a diplomat. But that was too bad.  
  
"You know perfectly well that if I had a choice I'd erase the disk."  
  
"You did have a choice," Une pointed out. "Yet you brought them to me."  
  
"I have a responsibility to ESUN--"  
  
"Crap." The word was flung like a dagger. "Do you think I can use these? Especially now, when the Preventers are like a bug under glass?"  
  
Relena squared her shoulders, meeting Une's hot gaze with what she hoped was a coolly reassuring smile.  
  
"I hope you don't use them--but if this new organization is as big as the rumors say." she shrugged and lowered her head slightly, letting her hair fall forward to partially obscure her face. "I don't want things to get out of hand."  
  
Silence reigned again for a few minutes, then suddenly Relena felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into Une's face and found the other woman smiling sadly down at her.  
  
"Thank you." She released her hold on Relena's arm. "If this is as big as it appears to be, you may have just given ESUN the tools we needed to fight back. "She extended her hand, and Relena took it. The hand that had set the bomb that had killed her father lay for a moment in hers, but for perhaps the hundredth time Relena was shaken by the idea that she felt no malice toward this woman.  
  
Then the moment was over and she was striding toward the door. ON the threshold she turned.  
  
"Une, do we even know who these people are?"  
  
The Lady shook her head. "We suspect, of course, but we won't know for certain unless they come right out and make a statement. Will I see you at the conference this weekend?"  
  
"Of course," she replied, then carefully shut the door. 


End file.
